Could I but take your gentlest thoughts
And weave them softly on a loom,
Gossamer of purest gold
Would make, for me, a rare cocoon.
Filled with your dreams I'd hide, replete,
And stay the moment of re birth.
Preferring darkness, there complete,
To light, and unforgiving earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem