Last night, light of my life, while wandering drunkenly,
without attending slaves to lead the way,
I met a throng of tiny boys - I do not know
how many (fear forbade me number them) .
Some held little torches, others carried arrows,
and some, I thought, were readying chains for me.
But they were naked. One, friskier than the rest,
said, 'Grab him! You all know him well by now!
This is the man the angry woman hired us for! '
He spoke, and then the noose was round my neck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem