Возможно, вы меня знаете. Да, это я. Ну, или частично я.

Night after night I have a dream
Of a gloomy and barren land
Of no color. And there is a stream
Flowing through the sand.
So dark are the waters, so plain is the sight,
And it gets even darker night after night.
And every night there is a child,
A child on the other side.
A tiny boy with golden hair,
Standing all alone on the other side
Of the stream in the middle of the nowhere
With nobody else in sight.
And every night the river grows wider,
With time it may turn into a sea.
The darkness deepens, the wind gets wilder,
And soon I will not be able to see
Anymore a kid with golden hair.
The delicate silent boy, so light
That he seems to be floating in the air,
Will be swallowed by the night.