Those who dream of the pleasures of drinking
May in the morning wail and weep;
Those who dream of wailing and weeping
May in the morning be going out
To mark a pleasant occasion indeed.
When they are dreaming they do not know
It is a dream; in their dream they may
Even have tried to interpret it; but when
They awake they know that it is just a dream.
And there is the great awaking after which
We shall know that this life is a great dream.
All the while, the stupid think they are awake
And with nice discrimination stubbornly insist
On their knowing, now playing a part of kings,
And now a part of menservants. Meanwhile,
We all are dreaming, and one who tries to say
That we are dreaming is dreaming oneself.
These words seem very strange even to me,
But if, let's say in another ten thousand years,
We meet with a sagely minded man who knows
How to explain them, it will be as if we meet him
Some morning or evening of the present days.
John
Reading your poem, I was reminded of the song that begins, "Life is but a dream…"
Ron