Sitting in the darkened night of doom, I look and wonder where the moon has gone for now.
Lying, starkly lighted way down the mountains, hides the city.
Darkness hiding any cracks or flaws from everyone's eyes, death steals quietly by.
Taking with it all unsuspecting people.
Most of whom were not ready for eternal sleep just now.
If they'd been given a choice, they'd be here yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem