"Dream, " I said,
"Aren't you tired of making new legends
That no one but I ever hears? "
"Bones, " she said,
"Aren't you ever tired of asking questions
That only I can answer? "
I went back to bed,
Waiting for the new king to arrive,
His talking mirror filled
With dire pronouncements of flame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem