Indeed, Klov is a poet.
Perhaps he will become famous tomorrow,
Or perhaps not.
They will elevate the poet to the gods,
And the bright light of Valhalla will shine,
His verses will be glorious,
Or perhaps not.
People will begin to marvel,
The sound of coins will be heard,
He may bathe in gold,
Or perhaps not.
So it is, and so it is not,
Wonderful Klov will decide for himself:
Will he be a poet, oh yes,
Or will he eat a croissant.

За всем следят машины благодати и любви.