Instead of the non-ancient dreams which I collected under the pillow,
Dreamer passed by sprinkling a little dreams without me
However mornings remained robbers at the night endings,
And how much do the deaf sleepings coast us at the drow backing of eyes.
How many rattles of hard rain did he come to your heart's window without me,
Was very talkative nobody touched his timid palms,
At the top of a ownerless lighting rod,
I don't know how many mistakes without you.