Hear, last night the roaring cavalcade
Of revelers that people street and club
Party and elsewhere now sleep and doze
And their thoughts upon the other are
Deepening into profound austerity:
Cold is the night, but martyrdom waits.
Frosty is the night, but Fear lurks.
Behind the corner trembles the sweet Dawn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem