*Corrected Version: *
*_Mocking the Hale King_*
A phone stopped. Hours, days, weeks, months—
They thought him gone, beyond the divide.
But he breathes, gallant, still on this side.
Shadows whisper passage, mocked by an angel swift.
They gather, jeer—the King, hale, hearty still.
Yet his passage? _They'll never witness it._
A roar from afar—all scamper, clutching safety vain.
Questions echo: How? Miracle? Schemes revealed?
Loot vanishes. Treachery laid bare, naked pain.
He roars—the King, with God, hyper-unstoppable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem