Long stood I
Under the cloak of night
Where shadows play
Under the moon's dim light
And the black bird sings his terrible plight
And the howling wolf cries out with all his might.
Long stood I
Under the watchful stars
Their feathery sight
Lighting the pale scars
Of my soul, my broken soul
And little, o' little did I know
That as myself my own hand mars
My truth and lies soon would have to show.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem