Although it's hard to believe, I know
They lurk in the shadow of the moonlight's glow.
They know the reason I have come
To the woods for those who can't face what they've done.
A part of me must think it's queer
To go to their woods this time of year.
Echoing around me in the dead of night
Are the endless shrieks of misery and fright.
The part of me that's still awake
Is afraid my soul is theirs to take.
The only sound my ear can hear
Is the gatekeeper's horse and his rider's sneer.
I could give in to the mysterious lure,
but the part of me that'll always be pure, has choices to make before I'm sure
And all past events will become a blur.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
People come to forks in roads at times, turn left, turn right? ? ? ? ?