it was around the midnight hour
when everyone is asleep
i heard the fairies voices
the pattering of their feet
they look over little children
through the dark and majestic night
where they sit upon their bedsteads
until the morning light
then they all creep silently away
their morning work is done
they fly home to their fairyland
beyond the morning sun
ian adams 1957-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a quaint little poem! Your poem is like a sprinkling of fairy dust! So enjoyed; D