And one stands

And one stands and stares at this glory.

And he is the kind that waits to see whether he will wake up.

Because only during one's sleep does one see such finery,

and such festivities of such women:

their smallest gesture is a dropping broquaded pleat.

They build up hours out of silvery conversations,

and sometimes they raise their hands in such a way -,

you have to think that somewhere

where you cannot reach they are breaking off gentle roses

that you cannot see. And there you dream:

To be adorned with them

and be with other joys

and to earn yourself a crown

for your forehead, which is empty.