When I roamed with ravens
and fought the wicked wolf
Blood stained my being
and my eyes were not seeing.
The wolf was so strong
He made me wrong.
Finally my soul screamed
and the lamb licked my wicked wounds
to rejuvenate and restore
my mind and inner core.
He sealed me with armor
to protect against the charmer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem