the mercies of sleep
to the repentant busy man
on
deep down deep
to the peace
of sleep
it is
different there
the family waits for dinner
and everyone is
pleasing
food is abundant
and kids are behaving
mothers watch
as fathers drink the wine
and puff the smoke of their
Cuban cigars
one soul there
having the same face as you
ethereal body
drinks the glass of wind
and eats
the body of the sea
it is different there
i tell you
you are there
but you think it is not you
until you wake up
and begin to recall the
symptoms
of what you miss
the glass of wind
the body of the sea
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem