When Elizabeth writes 43
She gives marching orders to all the world of poetry
That as poets our task is not even symmetry
Of word and rhyme or the catching of some immortal line
But to write and let the world
Sort out what is good and what is dross
Our task to write and leave to God
What only time can prove the words devine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem