Onto the cradle of mortal sleep;
that ye may from unconsciousness, sip;
I bid thy young prying eyes goodbye;
lest my cold voice to silence, is tied.
Twinkle, ye stars of the mystique sky;
cry on, ye crickets, I bid you cry;
lay upon Earth, the radiant shy light;
let thine voices quake the glittering night.
Set upon humanity, the glow;
pick up the sceptre of dreams and row;
tailor the torn linen of the dark;
for dreams are horses and nights are carts.
Seal thine eyes, bind the hinges and sleep;
awaken slumber and let it drip;
thine thoughts are heavy; the night is long;
dreams are thine to own; this is my song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem