A Dream
I often have this poignant dream
Of a maiden whose beauty is soft and near,
A lovely dame of yesteryear,
Who kneels beside a shrine and a stream.
And then in the moonlight she comes to me
In the nascent moonlight, tender, of the spring,
Which inspires songbirds in the trees to sing
In a minor tone, by the fountains near the sea.
John Lars Zwerenz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem