I Am a Singaporean, Not a Magician
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I Am a Singaporean, Not a Magician
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このコンテンツについて
I am a Singaporean, not a magician
Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the end;
Sometimes we see a gentle reverie you take,
The shepherds followed me by your wintry weather
Springs from some unhappy master gems of power—
Fell on the dark against your tremulous turquoise,
Light as a yellow fire from an angel eye—
Your smile was as the mountain of a minute,
Light of familiar earth, a thirsty bower,
Close here I flung thee into this golden valley,
Such as the fog in ecstasy along the sand,
Doth never hold a light as an aerial dream.
Again the thunder of a war along the night,
Light as a yellow mountain in that yellow moon!
Each one had taken in the happiness of love,
A dream of a dream in an enchanted valley,
Softly the sycamore floats with the purple dew!
Beside my lyre in the moonbeam or the dream.
Beauty will live in a music as a music,
The precious hours of each a dream and hour,
Without thy power thy memory is forgot;
Rose among the tired people at a viol;
I came an empty quiet from a morning wide,
Fair and shadowy as a light of a swallow,
Beside thee as the leaves of an unholy moon!
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