Behind the darkness, light awaits,
dispelling night or gloom;
and thieves escape one's notice,
of the damaged, tampered room.
Now, no cover of the blackness,
to hide their ply from view;
when brightness shows the way,
their deviltry shines through.
But just until the twilight gone,
and when the world is dark;
then their hands do hatefulness,
and call such crimes, a 'lark.'
Cowards cringing, out of sight,
their tasks they have concealed;
until the day of sunshine shows,
the mysteries revealed.
Satan's minions steal the night,
from hearts that lie in slumber;
with evil minds they wander,
in slinking, silent number.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poem accurately describes the actions of thieves who do their dirty work under the cover of darkness. Because of them, we need to sleep with lights burning all night, and bars on our windows and doors. They surely don't deserve such a good poem, but well done, Dave.