English poem
Xxvii
by Vítězslav Hálek (1835–1874)
If all the world lost its delight And had no other pleasure And love alone was left behind-- The life would have its treasure.
And if all other things were truth And love but dreams’ delusion-- I would be ready to lie down And sleep to life’s conclusion.
And if till now I’ve only dreamt-- My dreams had their sweet flavor, And who sang me my lullabies I shan’t forget forever.