At midnight, when all is quiet,
I hear the softest voices.
Are the pale ghosts of yesterday
Murmuring in the deep green trees?
Are they hiding amidst leaves?
Are they whispering on the breeze?
About wondrously subtle things?
Is there a light that never dies?
At midnight, when all is quiet,
My worries & fears dissipate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem