I frown, If others beam
As goods friends do weep;
But never go with him,
To his grave and sleep;
If he comes by night,
To knock at their gate;
So ghouly appears in sight,
Tells them, he's the late;
They say go-to-hell!
Closes all doors, vents well
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem