When the night is still
And the clouds are thick,
And the moon is full,
The breezes cool-
Go into the graveyard, if you will.
Where the earth is damp
And the stones have sunk,
All around is death,
Then hear the breath-
Of wind, and see the moon’s blue lamp.
Stand inside the bounds
Legions of the dead,
Hold your breath, listen,
Mute voices now risen-
And cries of the damned, all around.
Feel them creeping close
With their sad lament,
Friends no longer care,
For the dead left there
And the sighs of unhappy ghosts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem