THE vision will vanish for ever,
That gildeth this moment thy track;
And in vain were the noblest endeavour
To call the enchantment back.
Yet pine not; a balm—an ovation
Is thine in the thought, that the day
Will come when thy bleak desolation
Will pass like thy vision away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem