You are going to be sorry,
With distress gone back,
When the brick walls cascade
Like feathers of the hall.
The staff are well the first time,
Drifting across a standing stone;
Their fresh scars make me touched.
You are happy with all the wall,
Two night-watchers happily ready their swords.
Then you fall from the wall
To feed the humans and lions.
The wall breathes a sigh of relief,
The relief is strange and narrow
To whet the appetite;
Cover the mouth in order to prove
All food is all luxury.
The air is swallowed the first time,
Behind an abbot who talks to walls
About godliness, and all the time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem