Pat them on the shoulder,
See them stir, hear them sigh,
Step into their dreams,
Watch them live, watch them die.
Shake them by their great arms,
See them stir, hear them sigh,
We could never wake a God,
But how we try, o’ we try.
Would you wake a sleeping man,
To ask what he does best?
Would you stir a slumber’d mount,
To receive it’s molten pest?
Never wake a sleeping God,
To tell them you’re impressed,
You’ll inherit only rage,
They’ll ne’er take it in jest.
End.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow this is amazingly true