The night is far spent
There are but a few moments before dawn
And the black night
Has his mind
To shake every tent
he has an arrow
And its poison is shame
he has a dagger
his mood has not changed
Who is asleep
And discards this fiend?
Who is ready and awake
When the night comes
With his back ready
Of fiery quills to shake?
Suffering will replace
The indifferent yawn
Who is ready to last
'till dawn?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem