I do not think, I’m not complaining, do not argue.

I do not sleep.

I long not for the sun, nor the moon, nor for the sea,

Nor for a ship.

I do not feel the heat in these walls,

How green the garden is.

I do not long for the desired present

Do not wait.

Not the delights in the morning, nor the tram’s

Ringing and running.

I live without seeing the day, forgetting

The date and the century.

I seem to walk on a frayed tight-rope

I—a little dancer.

I—a shadow of someone else’s shadow.

I—a sleepwalker under

Two dark moons