But dream, As of creed in mortals' wits
Each trembles, if sleep brings him to bed
Adores you like a god at heavenly portal sits
To be his fair blessings, disguised in one's head
Which heralds man's fate, too many thoughts
Be it black-dooms, pretty-fortunes, green-lucks
This had I debated, often been my plots
That fortunes is as ease as plucking a rose from its stalk
Or drains no sweat, As scattering grains to caught chicks
Then how often shall your foolery be, O dream?
By your crashed envisions, fouls and dreadful risks
Of truth i sue you sometimes sail upon stream
And bare glens, loughs withno bream nor pisces
Let the panbearers ride, if steed do turns their wishes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sonnet 2 is also brilliant, Dreams, a poem with endless possibilities, free to add any script/theme. Lovely Sonnet. A 10 Vote on PH rating. Thank you for sharing Sonnet 2. G.B.U in Abundance. Amen.