All last night I dreamt of you:
Soft exciting lantern slides,
That brought back memories
Of things not happened yet.
But no mere picture ever brings to life
The subtle allness of reality.
How less than the real you
The feel of those imaginary arms;
And how less satisfactory the pillow
Still hugged in the morning light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem