To the day-dreamer - a poem

[escarei]

To the day-dreamer 

Where has the lustre of your eyes descended? 
What do they seek in murky depths of space?
Shedding tears for an ecstasy that ended, 
or the dark rose that fled without a trace? 
Do apparitions on the future's veil
draw nigh with fearful pictures of dismay? 
Do you distrust your fate, all wan and pale, 
because you once were lost upon the way? 
Look at the world and see how very few 
among its millions do not weep and sigh - 
daydreaming ruins life with lying view
it gazes, cross-eyed, at a painted sky.' 
For what can give a man true happiness?
Fame? Treasure? Beauty? Pour these out in flood, 
and greedy men will drown in their excess
with joy of spirit never understood.
He who needs roses does not wear a bower; 
to stare into the sun means not to see;
he who seeks pleasure only, finds it sour; 
for only temperance brings no agony. 
They who are good and noble in their soul 
who do not hunger in mouth-watering dearth, 
whom pride and greedy fancy can't control, 
Only they find a home upon this earth.
Don't look, then, to the distance dreams have shown 
for the whole earth is never our estate;
only as much as we can call our own 
will the wise heart accept and cultivate. 
The past and future are a sea too wide 
for the small farmstead of single breast; 
fog-forts and dead lights flicker o'er its tide; 
the lonely heart grows pale at its unrest.
If faithful gifts your present hour bestrew
with feeling, thought and love your true existence, 
remain with life and what it offers you
and do not seek the fair but doubtful distance! 
Don't sell serenity for coin of dreams
that will lie useless in your cozened hand - 
regret will be the sum of all your schemes 
if you frequent that day-dream wonderland.
Bring back, bring back your eyes' most lovely light! 
Let it return now like a homing bird
that seeks its own olive branch in its flight 
that branch to all sorrowful sighs preferred.
Remain among us with your youthful eyes!
Shine forth in brightness on your friend's true face! 
Become his sun, high noon in all his skies, 
untouched by tears in radiance and grace!

Translated by: Kirkconnell, Watson; Hart, H.H.

Original is from Vörösmarty Mihály, a hungarian classical author. Original title is: A merengőhöz