Quarter past four of the morning darkly, 
Sleet taps outside and a dream awakens me.
I can't quite remember the dream now, 
Although I know you were in it somehow.
I think I dreamed of meeting you out there, 
Lost in the hard black freezing air.
But this was just a dream that faded in bed, 
Leaving only fragments of thought instead.
At the beginning of another ice-slapped winter day, 
I lie in bed thinking of my dream that's gone away.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    