You see they gave it no name
To them it had no soul
It came at dusk and Left at dawn;
It left a trail of screams,
A kind of infectious terror
That instilled in man the tremors
Of loss and tragedy
Of an inescapable macabre fate;
With every life lost_
With every day that went by
The small little town was left with_
The sustained utterances of dread, and
The looming shadow of death
Ever creeping closer
To anyone out at night
Every part of that town seemed unreal
Yet nothing was surreal_
For they knew their deaths were real
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem