Here Lies. . .


I dreamed last night of pleasure.
How bleak, it seems, that only in my dreams
I pleasure seek,
desire good,
and long for you.
I dreamed last night for you.

I dream no more of treasure.
Worthless, it seems, to gather for my dreams
and treasure not
my heart, nor hope
for future joy.
I dreamed, but lost my joy.

I’ll dream again and measure
the vanity of all my hopes and dreams.
So measure I
nothing to name,
only despair.
My life is all despair.

So sing a song of sleep,
and let my days flow by.
This life I long to keep,
and yet I want to die.
Something must surely break
—I’m fearful it is I—
but nothing known will make
reason that’s not a lie.
When blinded in this way
one cannot see the sky.
My dreams I thus decay,
but please, teach me to fly.

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