April's over, poems done —
Gone the flame of their setting sun!
Dull hope alone remains
Like some long-forgotten bottle
Cast upon the shore of dim and dusty mem'ries,
Of dreams — or something more...
No promise, no pray'r,
no assurance —
No light at tunnel's end;
Only sad and wistful wishes
Awake this writer's pen.
Let me go away again —
Down to the furthest sea;
Let all my mem'ries die,
And my dreams, too —
Let them be!
Or — come back,
Come back and rescue me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem