To the Distant Beloved
The motion of thy tender, fragile heart,
I hear it at the instant I awake,
And thy mischievous laughter makes me quake
In resonance, as some uncanny art
Conveys it to my ears. ‘Tis at the start
Of morning, when the sun’s intrepid beams
Invade my eyes, and chase away my dreams,
I hear the echo of thy thoughts that dart
Across such distances – and how it sings
Within my mind long after thou art gone!
In sadness I rebuke the sullen dawn
That awakens me to apprehend these things,
For in our dreams alone may we embrace,
And finally know each other face to face.
Daniel Platt is a translator, poet and musician who resides in Los Angeles. More of his translations and original poems can be found here.