The foolish dream has beated me Such merciless. And homely I was in it, And indistinct - In dream I lied, betrayed the due And flattered easily... I never have suspected true In me such quality. And else I doubled hands in fists, And beated hardly, But touching not with strained handís piece, But with its soft part. The dream was waning in a time, Returned back later. When I just closed my lids tight, It recommenced. I was not going, but minced On even timber, No any foot I changed in trip, But wobbled in fear. Before the mighty man - I cringed, Before the villain - bowed. And I was loathsome for me, But - havenít waked up though. That was the ravings! Myself moan Iíve heard throughout drowse. But it was dreamt by me merely, And not by other. Being awaken, Iíve analyzed The snatch of groan. With pain I opened the eyes, Relieved although. And dream has hung on ceiling high And spreaded over. Was it the truth? The issue tough Remained hence opened. I washed my hands - but in backbone It stayed as cold. Whether this dream was real show, Or it was fraud only? Thence this dream was illusion - well, I was such granted. But if it was prophetic play - How I can shun it? The dream - as the reflection of events? It canít be so! While recollecting - inner essense then Is skewed in bow.         And if - the fire? Iím not able yet To step to fire. Iíll get ashamed, as in the dream, In which was coward. Or they will say to me: sing loud With everybody now! And Iíll admit the rule of crowd - The dream was oracle.
© Lyudmila Purgina. Translation, 2011