To the New Millennium (Shakespearan Sonnet) 
O Time's titanic offspring come to earth, 
A marvel is your own stupendous womb
Wherefrom a thousand sons shall take their birth
To raise, on Hade's immigrants here a tomb? 
Are you the premier proxy of our Lord
Send to rid, through your children's aid, the world
Of all the countless apples of discord -
By Satan being relentlessly hurled? 
May your first-born be a War-exporter, 
Exporting War to Hell by fastest planes! 
May the next one be a Peace-importer, 
Importing Peace from Heaven by dove-trains! 
  This wondrous ware could be our magic wand
  To exorcise all evils from our land.                
Your sonnet resonates with this reader. You write with zeal. I like your vivid style. Kind regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a marvellous work. hope everything you said comes true.