Fetch me pen, parchment, and ink
and allow me a brief moment to ponder
Where it is sleep talkers wonder
what awe or terror do they face
that could cause mumbles and rumbles
we fancy a language
from what lands do such words flow
only the talker should hope to know
is it bitterness my dear friend
at some forlorn memory
that causes you now to weep
or do you loathe a foe who stepped
abruptly into what of all should be yours
These secrets you will keep
as you talk while you sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely one well composed a dream