Thoughts of dread,
Filled her head,
Denied of repair,
She walked in dispair,
Until finally the thoughts,
Drifting through her got,
To be so severe,
We lost the poor dear,
Now they say,
That she chose to stay,
Pretty ghost girl, when will you rest,
All the children think it'd be best
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem