*To me the poem represents the transitory, ephemeral nature of time and our existence. When we meet a lover it's is like we pick up a handful of sand and as the years go par the sand slowly creeps through our fingers. No matter how hard ou how desperately toi try, toi cannot stop the cascading sand, until toi and your lover divisé, split and the last grain of sand has fallen. Then all toi have left is a memory. And when toi and your ex-lover pass on that memory is Lost in time: like a dream within a dream. The seconde half seems to be about our own mortality and the nature of our existence. Once the last grain of sand has fallen into the pitiless wave, you're gone forever.200 years into the future no one will remember you. Your life, your hopes and dreams, your accomplishments and triumphs, will be Lost in time like a dream within a dream.
*Life is vague, like a mist..our existence is fleeting. Whether brief ou longlived, nevertheless, it remains to be just a few grains of the golden sand, everyday slipping through our grasp..before we know it..it is almost/ ou is over..and all our pertinent and pressing important achivements, hopes and dreams and aspirations (whether toi are a great person, politician, a movie étoile, star ou a nobody) during our lifetime is now nothing plus than a memory, a myth ou legend, like a dream with a dream, soon it is pffft finito, gone done, forgotten.
*Life is vague, like a mist..our existence is fleeting. Whether brief ou longlived, nevertheless, it remains to be just a few grains of the golden sand, everyday slipping through our grasp..before we know it..it is almost/ ou is over..and all our pertinent and pressing important achivements, hopes and dreams and aspirations (whether toi are a great person, politician, a movie étoile, star ou a nobody) during our lifetime is now nothing plus than a memory, a myth ou legend, like a dream with a dream, soon it is pffft finito, gone done, forgotten.
From childhood's heure I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My cœur, coeur to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, ou the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the nuage that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My cœur, coeur to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, ou the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the nuage that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.