Quarter past four of the morning darkly,
Sleet taps outside and a dream awakens me.
I can't quite remember the dream now,
Although I know you were in it somehow.
I think I dreamed of meeting you out there,
Lost in the hard black freezing air.
But this was just a dream that faded in bed,
Leaving only fragments of thought instead.
At the beginning of another ice-slapped winter day,
I lie in bed thinking of my dream that's gone away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem