I am asleep within a dream
of peace descending on the world,
and purest rain to cleanse the blood.
The guns are still, the flags are furled.
And here alone within a grove
of trees more ancient than desire,
I am returned to Eden's grace;
the breeze is a celestial choir.
The human race has found its home,
a garden and a silver lake
to feed and shelter every soul.
I was asleep, but now I wake.
If only dreams could find the day,
with sunrise on a gentle strand,
with humankind at last as one,
we might restore the promised land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem