Waking from dreams of yesterday, looking through them like
pages of a book, seeing what messages may have been left when
awakened.
Seeing images of various types, learning that dreams are
definitely connected to reality even though mostly coming
from an interior imagination.
Extraordinary and elucidating, giving life a productivity
otherwise lost during the night, holding onto their tenuous
voices of silent rendering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem