Schwert Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Schwert
Da steht er nun, der Boesewicht
ein muedes Laecheln im Gesicht.
Er haelt das Schwert, holt aus zum Schwung...
In diesem Reich da stirbt man jung.
The rogue now stands
with weary smile
holds in his hands
with force and style
the sword, well-primed
his ego stung
momentum now
ye shall die young.
The rogue now stands with weary smile holds in his hands with force and style the sword, well-primed his ego stung momentum now ye shall die young. Well, it's a bit off... Thanks Andrew, for your kind comments and the time to visit. Best wishes H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/17/2024 2:05:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
So few words and says alot...nice!