Poezja

My dreams run to your thought! 
In hurried morning, eager sunset! 
Upon the thin veil of darkness, 
Pains bloom into silent beat! 
 
Crossed, for fervor is the virtue-
I disown- to smile at her broad smile, 
For ages and hence, behind the world; 
Burst with lies, despair, cries foul.
 
And forget! My race is thy victory-
Over pain, mistrust plays the music-
Oh! Muse, of your blissful Smile-
To fill those dreary beats to life ecstatic.
 
And the songs find it to heaven in harmony! 
With your arrival, in winter chill-
For faith is the virtue I owe-
In you to confide my immortal will.