In your dream you always lose something,
You don’t arrive in time where you have to,
You fly and hit against some wall,
You don’t succeed in finishing
What you have to say,
The regret overwhelms you every time
And the weeping floods you…
Sometimes the sea grasps you in her arms,
Her cold waves, the clear, blue water whips your body
And, while you fight against the waves
And look at the frightful vastness,
You wake and feel the accelerated pulse
Of your heart;
You look at the space of the room
In the light of the icon-lamp and say:
It’s the craziness of the dream!
And you console yourself with
“The mountain of measure” of the real…
Whence so much measure, Mister?