Stone still portals, guarding prisoners below
Stock still against the ever turning clock of wind
Tall or short they stand strong
Flanked by hosts of angels,
ever vigilant, ever still.
The ground below may rock
But they shall not stir from slumber deep
The wind may roar and claw
Like some primeval monsters wrath
Never shall the guardians flinch
And as time weens on, the army grows
To hold strong their iron strong occupation
These below will sleep peacefully on
Under the sullen, mist hewed ground
They know naught of what conspires in the green lands
A host so large needs walls strong
To hold the world outside at bay
And so there is, of iron wrought
Who would dare pillage such a place?
Only those with nothing to lose
Would dare try to steal from here
And so my eyes wander
The scene fades from view
It seems a dire waring
To all who live
Of what will soon to come
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem