If our consensual real world
Is an illusion or a dream,
Who is the sleeper?
Who is the subject, ‘real' or deluded,
Who is the object in that lifelong dream?
Whatever your answer,
You have no alternative
But to live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am a sceptic, not a nihilist. Life is real, life is earnest.