The clock strikes midnight
and the magic ends:
the fairy tale is over
and the truth offends.
The coronet, the necklace and the gown
and shawl of ermine trimmed with eider down
to tinsel and to ashen rags have turned;
only a slipper, left in haste
upon the stairway, overturned,
remains unchanged and fancy chaste.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem