I lay alone each night
In the boudoir of lost dreams
The unloved, unfancied soul
I weep no more, tears long since dried
The beat of a heart, numb
Like that of a military execution
Expectant of an ending
No joyous beauty flowers
Nor seeds sown to grow
Thus is as perhaps shall be
A dream is but a dream
And the lonesome night
Is all that shall be
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem