Thus it was: I adored and suffered. Thus it was: I only dreamed of her. I saw her secretly in sleep, An Amazon on a white steed. What to me was all wisdom of boring books When to tracks of her lips I can press close! What was with you, my queen of visions? What did you become, my illusory happiness? Our souls swam in Spring, Our heads were in fire. And grief, even pain, were far with her, And it seemed no melancholy would be. Well but now - at least a shroud is ready for her! I am laughing through tears and crying without reason, For her by eternal cold and ice my blood was frozen From fear to live and from premonition of death. I understood: no more songs to sing. I understood: no more dreams to watch. Days dragged along with her by threads of lie, With her there were only mirages. I burn remnants of holiday clothing, I tear strings, freeing from the narcotic. I will not to serve as a slave to illusory hopes, Will not bow any more to idols of deceit.
Bill Everett. Translation, 2004