Slumbering in his glittering jail,
the dragon awaits the thieving hand.
His gold is liquid
and his dragonlings swim
in the gold, progeny
soon to spill.
He sleeps and dreams
of the thieving hand,
its muscles tight and roguish.
The Stygian Dragon sleeps in the dark
until he be unzipped.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem