The minister's dog's puff,
The sigh of the steam train,
A cloud's silent groan as it rains down on the land.
The shovelling of coal,
The roaring of the fire.
The grunts of the stoker as he works into the night.
All the raindrops and the puffs of smoke,
All the barks and the grunts,
All the footsteps and the crickets.
Oh how it feels to be a train man,
Oh how it feels to be a minister,
Oh how it feels to be a dog,
Oh how it feels to be a stoker.
The silence of the night is no more,
As I roam again,
Across the moonlight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The silence of the night is no more. thanks. good write. I invite you to read my poems and comment.