Reflections

Under the rising water of the dream,

My soul is afraid, my soul is afraid.

And the moon shines in my heart

Plunged into the well-springs of the dream!

Under the mournful boredom of the reeds,

Only the profound reflections of things,

Of lilies, of palms, and of roses,

Still weep at the bottom of the waters.

The flowers drop their petals one by one

On the reflection of the sky

In order to sink eternally

Under the water of the dream and into the moon.