There is always a moment
Just before you sleep
When you feel a tremor
In your heart.
And as sleep takes control
Of you
You float in the gentle darkness
Of the night
Is sleeping like death I wonder?
Does it prepare you for the
Final sleep?
Does it prepare you?
To know the answer one has to
Talk to God
But where is he, he is never here
Perhaps he is hard of hearing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem