Отклонения, лирически и прозаически

To Everyman today all poets sing
to tell of righteous virtue
that, long forgotten, still illuminates
when heart to self cleaves open.

But Everyman today all poet thinks
no more than courtly minstrels,
and, of peace deprived, he blindly raves
unto anothers shifting blame.

And Everyman shall never know
what cure for hearts all poets sing
while, pain overwhelming, fights himself
into an endless war for peace.