It is almost a sacrilege
To mate
Without wedding one's dreams
To the other's
And share the joy
When it comes to life
Or the sorrow when it dies.
How can I be your bride, Sir?
You dream but through sleeping-pills.
And by the way, are they dreams
Sweet dreams! ! Or nightmares
The ghost of your day's deeds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem