A BORROWED DREAM
Why not send me a dream of yours,
For (ah!) I have grown old,
Mine like ashes, faded, worn,
Yours crackle, bright and bold.
Yours sound like the wine glasses
Of my true love ahead,
Mine smell like the medicine,
Lest my boredom in bed!…
Why not send me a moonlit night,
On grass pressed by the streams,
Pluck buttons from your blouse on your breasts,
I’ll take them as sleeping pills…
Send them to me by the moon mail,
Charming woman, why delay?
Like folding rainbows in the heart’s box,
Save a life, anyway!
Choose for me a vapid dream
Don’t long for it in pain,
The life I have tastes stale,
What about the life in my veins?…
At least lend me one as a debt
I’ll take it to my grave,
I’ll pay it with the coming rain,
Over the first grass one day…
I beg for a dream that I can pay,
Even if I sell an eye,
But if I feel a crumb of mercy,
May your dreams also be dry…
