Come, Lord, like a thief in the night,
come at the time of the dying of the light;
stoop low, and with the kiss of your mouth
take this soul of mine, repentant and contrite,
and help me slip gently into that Good Night.
Do this kindness for me, dear friend,
and let us depart for the Promised Land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem