A Dream

Upon a branch so thin, withdrawn
In the hush crystal of the dawn,
You dream, so calm in silent bliss...
Of what? — Of the sweet flower’s kiss
That on your wings still thrills alive
And of its fragrant whisper-love? —
Of its advertent petals’ treat,
Their honey-wine, their shelter sweet? —
Of the wide skyey winds whose streams
Carry so far your wings, your dreams? —
Of the leaves’ cool outspread athrill
Where can you, suddenly got still,
Dream silently in silence free? ...
Ah, now what if you dream of me?! —
Of me who’s in your dream enthrolled
Looking at you and loving all...
Or you’re, perhaps, my sleep’s mirage
In the light morn’s translusent hush...
Oh, what if I am just your dream?! —
Born by your drowse I simply seem,
A reverie in your dream-eye —
A strange two-legged butterfly...
Or all this visage — you, myself —
Is just a dream that dreams itself? —
The self-imagining dream-world —
The dreaming world — or a dreaming God? —
Soars like a butterfly immense,
A vast  dream-woven universe,
And the world-butterfly asleep
Soars on, so infinite, so sweet,
Soars on, wide-spread its fancy-wings,
Real, it seems... exists or seems...
Concrete and airy... Calm and dumb
I dream your dream for ageless time...
Awake, I sleep... I am — or seem...
The world is just a butterfly’s dream...


My site of photography and poetry: www.ritam-art.com

See the photo in high resolution here:

Русская версия этого стихотворения:

Pachliopta hector (Linnaeus, 1758) – Eng. Crimson Rose.

Location: Gardens of Sri Aurobindo Ashram (surroundings of Pondicherry, India).

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Из фотопоэтического цикла «Мир мотыльков».