What if that past should mute a life-end song?
It cast my heart, stranger, with darkest spell
And worse for years was nothing I could tell
Or ever bring myself to voice that wrong.
All along, down along, memories be
I still reassemble the terror of thee.
Poor old man acting the devil a spell
Molesting a child and leaving him hell.
Wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned
Though half-forgotten in a youngster's mind
All this and more left bare and lost behind
Peak a boo pops up when hopes unwind.
Poor old soul taker fumbling with fright
Will you be present at the world's last night?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem