Sleep likes the dark; we too
Rejoice when darkness comes,
But then we ache for light.
In sleep we dream and tie
Daytime to life, and comb
The sunless hours for loot.
Fear courts the dark, and we,
Who love to be afraid,
Arrange for dusk and dawn
Within a pitch-black den,
Thus darkening the way
From frying pan to Freud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem