Digits

My son is ill said king. Please help me monk
The year nineteen and o seven was nearly gone
But one thing year was able not to miss
Young woman died of typhus in Tiflis

The day was twenty two the age was twenty two
And husband of that woman had no clue
How live among that people he didn’t love
That day he lost his heart and pure love

Five years will pass and he will change his name
To name from steel, with this he came
To friend of his and that man did approve
The man from steel is board member, what a move!

Next year king is celebrating wide
Ignoring enemies of his due to his pride
Three hundred years of the ruling house and
Poor painter goes to another state

He will become a soldier in that state
In war which monk advised to king please not to start
That war king’ll loose and all’ll be ruined
Two friends will make from country a new union

That union will be an eyesore for painter
The painter, soldier and the ruler later
Who will defeat who knows only heaven
They wait four five but started all in seven