Night is near and dawn is far, from heart and soul and mind.
And should I clasp, to any ground, I would hold it dearer mine.
Should the morning's calling find its way into my head.
I fear my waking, lonelier, from this quiet bed.
So with thoughts of broken memories, I slowly lay this head.
So with thoughts of broken silences, everything is said.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem