The Tokens of Superstition

I drove to you: my dreams were bright 
And winding behind me like playing;
The crescent, set on my right side,
Was gaily following my traveling.

I drove back: my dreams were blind, 
My loving soul was in sadness;
The crescent, set on my left side,
Was accompanying me – the hapless.

Thus, in a silence, every bard
Falls in his dreams’ eternal vision;  
Thus tokens of superstition,
Well-coincide with moods of heart.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March 6, 2003