Bestial cries drape the eerie night,
as rolling clouds pull in the mist.
Shadows scurry to bending trees,
releasing crows to darkened flight.
Strewn gravestones tilt in wormy soil,
the unrest mocking from far beneath,
scratching, clawing from their tombs,
they hear the wails and increase the toil.
Their master calls to join the bloody feast;
gathered souls who knew not of the beast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem