The night deepens;
street lights glint like eerie lamps
in the thickening dark.
Silence dissolves all echoes
of sound, excepting the footfalls
of the night watchman.
Beating his stick
on the deserted roads,
blowing his whistle at intervals
he sends out the message
of presence of an eternal guard
against evil stalking,
while sleep descends all around.
Somewhere in a small house
close to a blind lane
a pair of eyes will keep wide open
till he trudges back
after his night rounds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, some one waits for the watchman's return to home after night patrolling/ duties. Thanks for bringing to the fore this aspect too.10 points.
Thanks for your compliments. Ajit Das