Life is a bed of dreams
Of the variety we admire
Day after day and hour after hour.
The numbers are advised,
While pages roll on,
Hurrying as cold feet
Over the shallow water,
Staying brightly wed
With ashes and embers
To roast the skin in deceit.
I am awake in the life we lead
Designing the wide river
Of our dreams that coincide,
These coincidences are perfectly blamed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem