The Joelma Building weeps with Heated Tears,
Precious as her Babes by Fourty Heads fall
With Souls cry Below for God's Delayed Years
Why Potent as Life be Consumed at All
If Fined those Porters for Safe Measures bloom
Thus would the Father of Sorrows prevent
As Hell those Innocents Un-deserve their Doom
Task Angels when to Conform their Ascent
So by a Ring their Fatal March resume
Hoping by Friction their Saviour's Cries hear
Though one-by-one in Desperate consume
In time by Soul's Relief leave Shells by Fear.
But what of Thirteen by Mephisto's Fury
Entangled their Limbs then Roasted to Hurry.....?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem