NOCTURNE NUMBER EIGHT Poem by Luis Vidales

To carry a river deep in oneself singing like a child
and the sea of time, in oneself, roaring to the stars
night
and day
And to go into the dream alone, really alone,
accompanied only by what you were in those days
with no help in bed
from the movies of the pillow
or the bedspread under which the fingers close
the opium poppy of a giant country:
the hidden country in which I sleep
so that later it will get bigger
and its multitude will keep me company.