Fading into cruel shapes, my dreams are clothes,
Anxious harm erupts in my mind to scatter echoes.
Dreams are a foray of inner dreams from life,
Then the surgeon arrives and departs, he causes the knife
To incise a man who is ill and depressed from harm,
The very same harm caused by a man of calm.
His calm propels our thoughts of him
In ways of the peace, the love of him.
This is cruelty of our dreams in life
With which we punish others in the nightlife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem