I dreamt of autumn in the window's twilight, <br />And you, a tipsy jesters' throng amidst. ' <br />And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter, <br />My heart returned to settle on your wrist. <br /> <br />But time went on, grew old and deaf. Like thawing <br />Soft ice old silk decayed on easy chairs. <br />A bloated sunset from the garden painted <br />The glass with bloody red September tears. <br /> <br />But time grew old and deaf. And you, the loud one, <br />Quite suddenly were still. This broke a spell. <br />The dreaming ceased at once, as though in answer <br />To an abruptly silenced bell. <br /> <br />And I awakened. Dismal as the autumn <br />The dawn was dark. A stronger wind arose <br />To chase the racing birchtrees on the skyline, <br />As from a running cart the streams of straws.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-118/
