Tonight is drawing nigh
My fear is going high
The night battle cannot be told
The dark night cannot be fold
The night messengers are preparing
The looters are swearing
Where is my guiding staff?
Where is my standing staff?
I know tomorrow is coming
Even though the night is drowning
Let the armies come for my feast
I know the dark messengers will dare not come and fist
I forget not tomorrow
Even the night might be of sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem