Fly, poppied drowse, away!
Across the marshes sweep,
Chasing the fallen moon, the shadows gray;
Make me not laggard, Sleep!
Against the morning move,
Fronting the reddening miles!
Touch the white eyelids of the girl I love,
And fill her dreams with smiles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem