At night when the day puts on its dark cloak
and blackness covers the heavenly blue
then there is a place that we want to make our own,
a place where you reach with your hand to mine
where you love me past time and sense and sensibility
and somehow it’s a place of shelter
where the madness of life does grow faint,
where an own piece of Eden begins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem