Of late I had often recalled this saying and this incident; for during the past week scarcely a night had gone over my couch that had not brought with it a dream of an infant, which I sometimes hushed in my arms, sometimes dandled on my knee, sometimes watched playing with daisies on a lawn, or again, dabbling its hands in running water.
Da qualche giorno pensavo sempre a quel fatto, perché da una settimana avevo sognato ogni notte un bimbo: ora lo addormentavo fra le braccia, ora lo cullavo in grembo, talvolta lo guardavo mentre si baloccava con le margherite del prato o si bagnava le mani in un fosso.