My only want in all that's holy;
To be crowned.
'As much he frowned- he smiled,
Though he fled and grew wild.'
Great peace at last
Came to close the box.
He asked; ' What Beast so desperate
As to claim the Fox? '
My spirit now waking-
Spiraled Peter's iron wrought-
Making cups from fingers,
'Rest in Peace' the last he caught
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem