With lachrymose eyes
and visage turned pale
I dreamt to dream not
for all my dreams are alike
an oarsman in a canoe
striving in an ocean
without an oar.
But how great my surprise
After having a glimpse of yours and
Peeping through...
Mind ajar
And from the
Abyss of my bossom
I realize...
I was unconscious of the fact
Without dreams
Nights would be blind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem