Vladislav Petkovic Dis - Maybe she's sleeping

This morning, I forgot a certain song.

A certain song which the entire night I listened to:

To hear it again,  today in vain I tried,

As if the song was all of my happiness.

This morning, I forgot a certain song.

In my dream, I didn't know about the power of waking up

And that the ground needs sun, morning and dawn;

That by the day stars lose their white gowns;

That the pale moon moves into the dead night,

In my dream, I didn't know about the power of waking up.

Now I can barely know I had a dream.

And in the dream some eyes, somebody's sky,

Some face, I don't know whose, maybe a child's,

An old song, old stars, some old day,

Now I can barely know I had a dream.

I don't remember anything anymore, not even those eyes:

As if my entire dream was of foam,

Or if those eyes were my soul beyond me,

Nor the arias, nor anything else I dreamt of last night,

I don't remember anything anymore, not even those eyes.

But I forebode, and to forebode is all I still can.

Now I forebode that those eyes were exactly the ones

Which through life strangely chase and lead me;

To my dream they come to see what I could be doing all alone,

But I forebode, and to forebode is all I still can.

To see me, come the eyes, and only then I see

Those eyes, and that love, and that path of happiness;

Her eyes, her face, her spring

In my dream I see them, but I don't know why I don't now.

To see me, come the eyes, and only then I see:

Her head with a crown of hair and in her hair a flower,

And her gaze which looks at me as if through flowers,

It looks at me, it says it feels me,

It caringly gives me rest and a world of tenderness,

Her head with a crown of hair and in her hair a flower.

I don't have my dear one now, and her voice I don't know;

I don't know the place where she lives or rests;

I don't know why reality hides both her and my dream from me;

Maybe she's sleeping, and her grave dismally nurtures her image.

I don't have my dear one now, and her voice I don't know.

Maybe she's sleeping with her eyes beyond every evil,

Beyond things, illusions, beyond life,

And with her sleeps, unseen, her beauty;

Maybe she's living and she'll come after this dream

Maybe she's sleeping with her eyes beyond every evil.