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