To a (Formal) Unborn Mole
Clément Marot & Mark L. Irons
October, 1537; 4 April 1999

Little mole
In thy hole,
Darkness hide.
Why reside
In this cell?
Leave thy shell
With a kick.
Axe and pick
Soon thou'll raise.
Through long days
Don't stay pent,
Hid away.
End thy stay;
Thou shall mine
Stone divine,
Gems and ore.
All this - more! -
Awaits you.
Join we who
Delve and dig
(Zag and zig);
We're your kin,
All born in
Tunnels deep.
We will keep
Whole your soul,
Little mole.

This translation ©1999-2002 Mark L. Irons