I always think of you as of a dream
In which, all through the long blest night, a face
I never saw smiles at me with a grace
No words can paint, till at the first shy gleam
Of the pale morning sun, the tears still stream
From half-awake eyes. And into empty space
I sigh my grief that dreams do not retrace
The travelled course of their alluring theme.
For all lies caught in an eternal sleep,
A sleep on which no morning ever dawned.
And life is but a dream of dreadful fright
Which night will chase into the lightless deep.
But in that dream a dream of song and light:
My dream, so gladly hailed, so sadly mourned.
Willem Kloos (1859 - 1938) The Netherlands
Translated by Adriaan Barnouw
Source: Modern Dutch Poetry, edited by Hans Koning, 1955