Lo' we weave a dream of a middled dream....
Lo' i run to scream, within thy middled dream.
Alas-my muddled weave, as if thy dream had dreamed...
Alas, i saw thy horror's hallway, to thy doorway's beamed.
Because, i pause, as within a dream, i wander on, as if we weave...
We weave, out tendered dream, all so dark, as Winter's leave.
Alas, alas, my tenured lass...
A kiss, well sent, upon thy grass.
A grassy long knoll, about thy pasture...
Greenest mast, above thy, last year.
Again, i leave my middled dream...
Alas, thy asked, it's wintered beam.
I leave, my leave, no matter more...
As I, at last, walk out thy, exited, door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem