antennatoheaven

In vain do I stretch my arms out for her in the morning, when I try to arouse myself from troubled dreams; in vain do I seek her at night in my bed, deluded by some happy and innocent dream in which I am sitting beside her in the meadow, holding her hand and convering it with a thousand kisses. And when, still heavy with sleep, I grope for her and suddenly find myself fully awake, a torrent of tears bursts from my oppressed heart, and I weep bitterly in view of a hopeless future.