Woke up this morning to see you sleeping beside me like
every morning through the years, wondering as I watched
you breathing, what you were dreaming of.
If you were imagining me or some other fantasy, thinking
about the realizations of love, knowing your love for me
is unconditional.
Your desires and passion always holding onto the essence
of my love, no doubts, just wonder at times how we've
been so lucky to have found each other.
How did we find our love in each other so totally and
completely in this great big world filled with people?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Early and late, throughout his long career, Picasso returned the subject of one person watching over the sleep of another. Regardless of the style - realistic, sentimental, avant-garde, monstrous - this subject has always moved me, and your poem here gives voice to those images, makes them as real as everyday life and as wondrous as a married love which has prevailed to inspire us even in these vexed times.