Still dreams hover about my resting seat, which is no seat
But a furnace rent by demons, spirits of no ones desire
Dreams of a quititude and rest beside the tree and yule log
Of a family smiling in expectation and of course the half dead dog
Who licks the faces of all who present themselves,
Loyalty enshrined in the instinctive motions not those for hire;
Dreams of what was once but have been torn by the feat
Of encrazed desire, the blinding seal of seperation
And of a love lost in the depths of desolation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem