O my sweet sweet dreams!
Will you mind to be true?
I am so thirsty without you
You enjoy my pains, it seems
Yes, I love the world you creat
And the web you weave so strong
And it's the point where I be wrong
For I forget the way I should treat
But O impudent dear dear friends!
Still you appear while no one invites
And create so heart soothing sights
To fulfill I need but thousand hands
They who succeed to give you form
Proudly utter that they themselves do
But numbers show such men are few
For losers you bring but harrowing storm
But I am'nt among those losers o dreams!
With cold sighs who give up their arms
To that man too a winner this heart deems
His last breath sings but hopeful psalms
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem