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Was it a dream that once I was your heart's friend?
I remember it as a silenced song
whose string still vibrates.
I remember a rose you gave me,
a glance so shy and tender;
I remember a parting tear that glistened -
Was everything a dream?
A dream as short as the life of an anemone
out in a spring green meadow,
whose beauty quickly fades
before the mass of new flowers.
But many a night I hear a voice
over the stream of bitter tears:
Hide this memory deep in your breast -
It was your best dream!