The Earth is Dreaming
The earth is dreaming,
clouds are laid upon her like sleep.
I am dreaming, too.
Tires hiss down Twelfth Avenue,
the hiss a spray of sea foam,
every drop a man.
Restless drowned sailors sing from the sea
a thin and distant strain,
a song of night, unutterable depth.
Black waves are troubled by spirits
moving over the water, unappeased.
This sea could roll me
on the rocks,
splinter me.
I would be released.
But I am lifted up and gently
laid upon the land.
What land is this? Awash with roses,
the sun like honey,
the trees speak poetry
blossoms breathe sweet choruses,
birds carry messages,
the fields out and away are aglow
with colors and light!
The earth beneath my feet
creaks like a shy and youthful thing,
and, Oh! my feet upon the earth,
my head ablaze with sun.
Am I awake now in this reality?
I move through the forest where something
was moving before me.
Now is time
measured by clocks
endless cities
laid out in blocks.
Moments of affluence
Places of residence
Situations in reverse
Conditions adverse
Spiked wheels
busy commerce
bad deals
could be worse.
Men armed to the teeth for adversity
with phrases to sum up philosophy
all leading to death and sterility.
Beneath the thin coverlet of centuries
the earth is dreaming.
In her sleep she turns the wheel
of flying seasons
the slow revolutions of rock and water,
trees and beasts and races of men.
I am dreaming, too:
the flowers, the time,
the street, the dark sea,
the honey like sun,
the poetry. . .
The earth is dreaming,
clouds are laid upon her like sleep.
I am dreaming, too.
Tires hiss down Twelfth Avenue,
the hiss a spray of sea foam,
every drop a man.
Restless drowned sailors sing from the sea
a thin and distant strain,
a song of night, unutterable depth.
Black waves are troubled by spirits
moving over the water, unappeased.
This sea could roll me
on the rocks,
splinter me.
I would be released.
But I am lifted up and gently
laid upon the land.
What land is this? Awash with roses,
the sun like honey,
the trees speak poetry
blossoms breathe sweet choruses,
birds carry messages,
the fields out and away are aglow
with colors and light!
The earth beneath my feet
creaks like a shy and youthful thing,
and, Oh! my feet upon the earth,
my head ablaze with sun.
Am I awake now in this reality?
I move through the forest where something
was moving before me.
Now is time
measured by clocks
endless cities
laid out in blocks.
Moments of affluence
Places of residence
Situations in reverse
Conditions adverse
Spiked wheels
busy commerce
bad deals
could be worse.
Men armed to the teeth for adversity
with phrases to sum up philosophy
all leading to death and sterility.
Beneath the thin coverlet of centuries
the earth is dreaming.
In her sleep she turns the wheel
of flying seasons
the slow revolutions of rock and water,
trees and beasts and races of men.
I am dreaming, too:
the flowers, the time,
the street, the dark sea,
the honey like sun,
the poetry. . .