I lie awake though slightly seeming
Entranced in thought of day time dreaming...
Dreaming with one eye a gleaming...
For the one I love
And from the mountain far above
Brought forth no olive by a dove
To land upon my snow white glove...
And my tears collect below
They turn to ice, they turn to snow
The highest high, the lowest low
The endless ebb, the endless flow
My hands begin to quiver
But within my dream the slightest sliver
Could she be found by the rapid river
A gift to me by grace and giver
My eyes toward the aqueous layer stare
A shallow hope o is she there
My steps are light as if half air
And to my fair my heart to bear
And promises to keep
As I approach the wrinkles deep
I find the bank is much too steep
Shall it be the grim that I shall reap
I'll never know as I awake <><
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem