Good Lord, who took his child in time, 
 in time to shatter this black night.
 The deepest purple's so sublime
 and silhouettes the fireball's light, 
 which shines upon this living wreck.
 This bloodsucker within the rocks
 so tempting us to wring that neck
 and search within this empty box, 
 for Demon's Eyes and Mandrake Root
 the Speed King's men have shown, 
 he might just take your life, to boot
 and so the founding bird has flown.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    