I work in the dead of night.
I come to kill, plunder, destroy -
The dark is my friend. With it, the whole world is mine
for the picking. A pathetic toy.
I creep, I stalk, I hunt, I pounce:
My victims are all unexpecting, never seeing the end till it's too late -
and it's always too late. I leave like a thief in the night,
their hearts laying broken on the ground behind me - till the night I met my one true mate.
And then the roles were reversed -
she became the thief and I the victim.
I hated it, but I could do nothing to stop it, couldn't quite
because I had fallen too hard.
But in the end, it ended the same: someone left the other.
A heart always broken, left behind -
but never in a million years did I ever think that heart would be mine,
that I'd be the one left behind
It happened, though, and I was broken.
The once thief of the night hang up his coat and retired for the night,
content with waiting for his love,
just like all the other lovers he had left behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem