European Elegies/Spring/Tears of sleep

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66.TEARS OF SLEEP

Fair, fragrant morning, bring release from dreams
And drive the phantoms of my sleep away!
Dissolve my restless phantasies in day,
And cleanse my troubled mind from night's extremes!

For corpses, pale and wan as withered limes,
Have haunted the strange chaos of my brain:
Shades of mute Hecate and all the slain
Sad sons of Priamus of olden times.

And there the mother, stricken beyond tears,
Made futile sacrifice without a moan
And hid her sorrow in her ancient breast.

But thou, my heart, that grief has turned to stone,
Hast wept in sleep for her, as dim appears
Stalactite-drip far down a cave's dark rest.


From the Romaic of I. N. Grypares.

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