What's to bemoan in this procession
Of a passing Age?
To its years' spawn, as gold, grand rode
For heroes, may no let up be
For to give homage.
Of deity on deity sat o'er,
Onward waving that race
In laurelled roll-call, Hope fastens
Battle field on field, of sporting
To cheered onlooker's face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem