I've dreamt of you so often that you become unreal. Is there still time to reach this living body and to kiss on its mouth the birth of the voice so dear to me? I've dreamt of you so often that my arms used to embracing your shadow and only crossing on my own chest might no longer meet your body's shape. And before the real appearance of what has haunted and ruled me for days and years I would doubtless become a shadow. Oh the shifts of feeling. I've dreamt of you so often that it is doubtless no longer time for me to wake. I sleep standing, my body exposed to all the appearances of life and love and you, who only count today for me, I could touch your forehead and your lips less ...
I've dreamt of you so often that you become unreal.
Is there still time to reach this living body and to kiss on its mouth the birth of
the voice so dear to me?
I've dreamt of you so often that my arms used to embracing your shadow and
only crossing on my own chest might no longer meet your body's shape.
And before the real appearance of what has haunted and ruled me for days
and years I would doubtless become a shadow.
Oh the shifts of feeling.
I've dreamt of you so often that it is doubtless no longer time for me to wake. I
sleep standing, my body exposed to all the appearances of life and love and you,
who only count today for me, I could touch your forehead and your lips less
...