Dreams
Like a mere raindrop hanging on a flower
Which mirrors the blue sky and the green grass,
Yet stays, a mirror only of fair things.
So I conceived a thousand radiant dreams—
Yet they lacked life—the fever of the world
Consumed me and the fettering hands of men.
And when I died those dreams my soul conceived
Came to me—calling eagerly for life.
But I had nothing left except my soul,
Therefore they said, 'Your soul must pay the price;
Your soul must feed us scattered into shreds—
Your soul must grant us life' I fled from them—
Fled with my new-born freedom hot in me—
Fled from the ancient torture of the world—
Found neither shelter nor rest, respite nor peace,
Which mirrors the blue sky and the green grass,
Yet stays, a mirror only of fair things.
So I conceived a thousand radiant dreams—
Yet they lacked life—the fever of the world
Consumed me and the fettering hands of men.
And when I died those dreams my soul conceived
Came to me—calling eagerly for life.
But I had nothing left except my soul,
Therefore they said, 'Your soul must pay the price;
Your soul must feed us scattered into shreds—
Your soul must grant us life' I fled from them—
Fled with my new-born freedom hot in me—
Fled from the ancient torture of the world—
Found neither shelter nor rest, respite nor peace,
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