Whether twas of that dream
Compels, not so soon
Him, her, from out of it wake
For each blessed one's sake;
Or dream-like, for which state
Of mind, day-pleasured
Either too far, or for too long
Toward felt no wrong
In truth, I cant tell you.
As difficult tis
Recalling, what no traces leave
Let alone believe!
The colour, the wonder;
Freedoms a-float...
World's look, my own, as shocked off!
These cold winds scoff!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem