Is love a quiescence prance?
In wrinkles fickle feet
I bridged my ghostly lamp
Elan is rife in dreams
Then strolled about the thoughts
Eclipsed her form in flights
My dream fast saw its twin
I stood with nameless tunes
Then stopped to feel the song
The pith aired all with boons
I heard its tenor’s soared
Though harked not me in view
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem