The witches wear their pointed hats,
The witches croak and croon,
The witches ride their broomsticks,
Away beyond the moon.
The witches wear their flowing cloaks,
The witches stir their brew.
The witches chant their magic spells,
All the dark hours through.
The witches stroke their big black cats,
They comb their locks of gray,
Yet when the first faint daylight comes.
The witches hide away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it's a swell poem :)