Dreams delve into the sleep as much as weep,
Dreams muttering do keep alive like mice,
Why does the body wake being so deep
In that frozen rest, actual device?
My eyes dwell further than the death of tears,
The crying over night collected more,
My eyes deceive my soul as it appears,
With might of sight the dream is to adore.
My name is written on the vision near,
I wake to find the dreams just all absent,
The dream is not apparent nor austere,
It concentrates on people ignorant.
The lying down on beds requires the sleep
Of years and years, age matters, it does creep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem