A tired butterfly had swung while dying
From ravaged twigs under a brownish leaf.
The subdued shadow of pallid foliage
Quaveringly chased the autumnal beams.
This life has been a very sad fairy tale.
Hundreds of birds were ready on the tree.
And they all chattered as a farewell to me
About my summer never to return.
The night has fallen after my bitter sigh,
And the sky became flooded with tearful stars.
Dreams came to pay me a visit on that night,
With as bright light as never seen in years.
My little room was very small and narrow,
Yet, able to hold a whole fairyland.
– And I dreamt about happiness, great and bold,
About great, happy fairy tale I dreamt.
I had often dreamt of heavenly beauty
And with aching heart I always awoke.
Enough! I do not want to dream anymore,
Or, to weep over perished hopes, no more.
I know: the sober, grey morning comes next day,
A blanket of fog and cold. It'll be sad.
Even if happiness came along today,
I still would not trust it. I have no faith.
Translated by: Maria Bencsath