As I wandered along life's dark streets,
A thousand kinds of spectres I did meet.
I stared into eyes of love and hate.
Yet most carried the cross of cruel fate.
Some ghosts with radiant light did glow.
Others shrunk under the weight of woe.
Some wore the gilded masks of the vain.
Others bore the bloody mark of Cain.
Some of them were filled with joyous tears.
Most of them were wounded by cold fears.
Some were afflicted by crude madness.
Others bore strange fruit from great sadness.
Each one evoked either heaven or hell.
I had to read the flashing signs to tell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem