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The Lamp burns sure—within—
Tho' Serfs—supply the Oil—
It matters not the busy Wick—
At her phosphoric toil!
The Slave—forgets—to fill—
The Lamp—burns golden—on—
Unconscious that the oil is out—
As that the Slave—is gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is the labour of the serfs that supply oil...and the lamp burns on...but the oil is out there! means no labour of the slave to supply oil...great as usual- 10