"The night comes down
And I get afraid
Of losing my way"
-Brian May, Queen 1970.
The grey sky, a soulless tomb
Creeping over black ridge lines
Ever darkening into deeper gloom
In the valleys, up steep inclines;
And lost from this world is you,
Lost in the deadening night,
Hidden somewhere away from view
Buried away from sight;
And all the words and prayers uttered
Against life's solemn descent
That once hopes and hearts fluttered
Now only serve to wound and dent;
The night has taken them all away
Swept up in it's shadowy cloak
Leaving our numbed minds of clay
To chill in it's ghostly smoke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem