The night of being called early
complained
complained to the red dusk
Yet dusk, red dusk said:
'I that have yielded part of my
short reign to you; you should
be thankful for it to me too.'
then Night replied:
'my reign is long anyway
and to summon me so early in the day
is a rude waking to me always'
At which the dusk redder grew
than poppies drenched with blood
in Flanders fields.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem