About My Dreams

Now the flowers are all folded

And the dark is going by.

The evening is arising . . .

It is time to rest.

When I am sleeping

I find my pillow full of dreams.

They are all new dreams:

No one told them to me

Before I came through the cloud.

They remember the sky, my little dreams,

They have wings, they are quick, they are sweet.

Help me tell my dreams

To the other children,

So that their bread may taste whiter,

So that the milk they drink

May make them think of meadows

In the sky of stars.

Help me give bread to the other children

So that their dreams may come back:

So they will remember what they knew

Before they came through the cloud.

Let me hold their little hands in the dark,

The lonely children,