O! You whose dreams I possess
A foreshadow of the great uprising of wickedness;—
Who are you? I do not know.
Yet, the wickedness of your brow doth show.
Every day, your heart I am woken to by a fright.
Entering into maids; how dark is your light.
I say this to you, my beloved:
I see you enter into the war
I see the body mound which made your heart sure
Of the battle with the great wicked things.
How you are making a future where nothing’s pleasant but for kings.
I had told my adversary this:
I have to have both our burdened dreams
Mine when I am sleeping
Belongs to one of the kings.
Yours, yours, it belongs to me.
I saw Pharaoh spreading his vine
In the warships of Babylon.
And I… I… I helped him.
O! Let it not be so, so!
Yet… if I am guilty,
Let me never, ever grow old.
