I sleep the sleep
of midnight,
dark and deep.
The clocks strikes speak...
and chimes of excitement
I do not hear,
spears the owls ear
with vigour.
It floats as a ghost
on earthly prowl,
and me, destined
to dream alone
steals its position
in the night
and flys
with the moon
on my wing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Sally, Nice one this poem. Short and effective. Thanks for your comments.
Thank you for your comment. Much appreciated.