I do sometimes dream in pastel colors, and ghosts do occupy my brain, but not nearly as often as they used to (Ah, poetry!)
Sleep well, fool
It is thy waking hours that pain.
Your pastel dreams don’t shake your being
As the daytime ghosts that occupy your brain
And stick
And stick
And stick
And stick
And no pill nor meditation can take them away—
It is thy sleep that does forget
Would that it were permanent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem