The power of the night lingers like dark vapour,
Impressing the mind with its avoidance of light.
My powerful profession falters, my innocence renders,
Mine is the glory of the acts that accompany the words.
Might we discover a righteous applause in the solemn time,
Mighty hands are put in the earth's way, many strings are tied.
Shall the power of the night overwhelm a stagnant community?
Will you deserve its residues and interrogation after so much?
The black dear heart is upon us with its testing and wrestling,
Finding the night with its stutters, and its murmurs, and senses.
But where is the whole action comforting our sight and life?
The days will roll like a stone of the heavens in its pathway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem