I marched to the divine Harper,
I whirled quietly round the melodious tunes.
Upon my soul, his harp sounded vigorously,
As I thought to come back to my hermitage,
He noosed me with the loop of his enchanting music,
While he was hooded in black light,
Now he's climbed out from his hiding,
Playing on his harp to enthuse me.
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem