Death has visited thee in the night
My love, my sweet
Leaving you cold to thy hands touch
Dead as a wilted frost flower
Death has visited thee in the night
Stealing you away when light could not protect you
Placing you in a realm of eternal darkness
Where my soul and being cannot reach you
Death has visited thee in the night
Whispering sweet deceitful lies
To lure you away gently into that good night
Away from the world, away from me
All that will remain
Is a wilted frost flower
To stand as a testament of your final days
Amongst this plane of existence
So do not go gently...
Do not listen to those lies...instead
Rage, Rage, against the coming of the Night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem