Night can't wake me up;
and day's hast moves to pass most by.
Where upon this road, it takes one high.
Why do your eyes refuse to see,
what few have seen before.
And where it is I am, you can not bear to be;
up here, high upon this lonely hill.
Where most will turn and have to walk away.
You turned around to leave it and one stood,
'Dear' all alone
Like all the rest unable to beseech him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem