Can he rest?

Can the sleeping man rest?

He cannot see the night, cannot see the invisible.

He has big blankets

and cushions of blood on cushions of mud.

His head is under the roofs, and his hands are clasped

on the tools of fatigue.

He is sleeping to test his strength -

shameful to be blind in such a great silence.

On the shores rejected by the ocean

he does not see the silent poses

of the wind which ushers man into its statues

when it calms down.

Oh the goodwill of sleep

for the entire length of death!