There is a place where nothing grows.
All here is dead and the wind seldom blows.
Surrounded by stones laid from beginning to end.
Nothing thrives here but evil and sin.
A gathering of souls, a dead mans ball.
Hidden away, Invisible to all
Mist hangs thick engulfing the trail.
Blanketing the ground like a widows black veil
Shrouded by darkness tucked safely away
If you wind up here, then here you will stay.
Hard to resist, are the sirens call
Hidden away, Invisible to all
Things are planted here deep beneath the ground.
Some were put here never meaning to be found.
Crypts are sealed, many enclosed by iron gates.
Inside their dark tombs, evil patiently waits.
Beckoning you closer, hear the ravens caw
Hidden away, Invisible to all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem