The world is such
A vast dreamland
Sleeping and dreaming
Waking and living with the dream
The world knows no rest
A man that sees his dream
And remains in a slumber
Knows no gain of sleeping and dreaming
We gleefully say our dreams
With the glibness that makes them
Mature only in our mouths
Or in other people's ears.
A stillbirth they become
And we burry them without tombs.
The gloaming is the time
To name your dream
And the dawn is the time
To rise up to it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem