Heinrich Heine Poem by Douglas Scotney

I hadn't the time
To be able to rest
As I sought both real and illusion.

I repeated myself in the process.

Tired of repetition,
But unable to rest, as I've said,
I found what I thought I sought
Without knowing it wasn't me
That was seeking.

Realising my error
I dreamt of my seeking and death
While preaching of truth and of love.

I wanted to make her cry
For the terrible mistake it would seem
I had made seeking real and a dream