Dreams are the imagination of the soul
If combined with reality
Would yours become whole?
But if a dream is just a dream
For which you have no scope
Then you have taken mans imagination
And left him without hope
They can't be seen except in sleep
Or as an aim will slowly creep
Within the confines of your mind
Awaiting birth to be refined.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A dream maybe the clearest form of reality, Love Duncan