Fire faltered in the night, I came to taste
The very last it had to give to me.
And round the flame sat figures dark, in waste
They wept white tears, as they all yearned to be
Elsewhere from here. With such a lousy host
Who claimed the weary light, as his to hold
Away from their black eyes, which hungered most
To take and eat my foulest fleeting gold.
Which would for brief save them from rav'nous Night
Who feasts on hopeful eyes. And so, in hordes
They rush around my flame to save their sight.
But all I hear is screams 'round my fair fire.
Dark is the Night that feeds on their desire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem