One candle in the Dark,
Slips sleep into me.
One candle in the Morning,
First thing I see.
Never did this before.
Now, every Day, Night.
My Father speaks to me
Through Christmas candlelight.
A gift? Planned...chance?
I listen to his words.
They hurt...
But, oh! How they
Dance!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem