There's an old weathered wooden gate
That I do dream of while asleep.
It's open and I contemplate
The woods beyond, lovely and deep.
The pathway through has been well worn,
A sign that many others chose
To walk from night into the morn,
As through the trees the sunlight glows.
I should pass through before I wake.
Just standing still, I should not be.
Why put it off for goodness sake!
It is Heaven's Gate I'd come to,
And this Gate does beckon me through.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem