The Poor Man Dreams

The Poor Man Dreams

an Evening awaits me

when I shall drink I peace in some old Town,

and die the happier: since I am patient!

If my pain submits, if I ever have any gold,

shall I choose the North or the Country of Vines?

– Oh! It is shameful to dream – since it is pure loss!

And if I become once more the old traveler,

never can the green inn be open to me again.