Again I wake up in the morning:
The weather's fine, the sun - all day...
But where's the dream? the sleep?
I'm going
Through distance - to the point of rays...
There - the sun... so high and gleaming...
I can't look straight on a dazzling light...
But when I sleep: where am I living?
I see there also the sun sometimes...
Perhaps, the dark in dream - is stronger,
Than light, and my thoughts dither
In some unknown, unsubstantial ocean...
Only when I wake up - world is real...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem