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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-11-03 | | Submited by Axel Lenn
Were I thunderbolt I’d strike you,
Deep-drown you were I water-flow, And deeper dig your graves I would Only were I hoe. Were I noose I’d gladly hang you, Steel by chance would cut ahead, Were I silver-ball I’d chase you Hell-for-leather dead. Although not much to meet the eye, Doth innerly resound my fate I’m so much more than anythin’: Self-erected hate. Adapted translation after [‘Urã’] by Axel H.Lenn
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