When tears are in your eyes, and darkness comes
and all around are sleeping in the wings
you lie there lost inside your little world
Imagining all sorts of wicked things
The stories you were told before your bedtime
were cruel enough to make a grown man cry
and the images portrayed by such an awful man
made me wonder how you would get by
But only in your mind were ghouls and monsters
who knew they would impact upon your dreams
and getting off to sleep at night was torment
as your brother read aloud those awful scenes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem