Yeats

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. Det citat av Yeats har suttit fast i mitt huvud i flera dagar.

Hela dikten lyder så här:

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with the golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams…

Fast min favorit just nu är:

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

 

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

 

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced among the mountains overhead

And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats alltså och dikterna är kallade He wishes for the cloths of heaven och When you are old.

Visst är det lustigt vad som kan fastna där uppe i hjärnbarkens grå vindlingar?