Night can't wake me up;
and day has moved to pass most by.
Where upon this road it takes us high.
Why do our 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 the hill.
Where all here turn and have to walk below it.
You turned around to leave, There one stood.
Alone.
Like all the rest unable to believe him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem