Friday, 23/02/2024 - 14:06
05:18 | 01/09/2019

I drove to you: my dreams were bright
And winding behind me like playing;
The crescent, set on my right side,
Was gaily following my traveling.

I drove back: my dreams were blind,
My loving soul was in sadness;
The crescent, set on my left side,
Was accompanying me – the hapless.

Thus, in a silence, every bard
Falls in his dreams’ eternal vision;
Thus tokens of superstition,
Well-coincide with moods of heart.

 

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March 6, 2003



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