Thus spake Satan of the survivor:
How can I overcome him?
He has strength and ability,
and weapons and firmness of purpose?
And he said: I will not take his strength
and will not put restraints or bridle on him
and will not weaken him
nor make his hands as feeble as of yore.
This only will I do: I’ll dull his brain
and he’ll forget that he is in the right.
Thus spake the Satan;
the heavens turned white with fear
when they saw him rising
to commit his deed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem