I dream: I am a sun that sinks
Into a swamp among lilies. Nearby, rife
With leaves of time, hangs a garden, sings
A weeping bird: Where is your life?

But like an amoeba, I split in two:
Just my earth half will descend in a cave.
As I see my image in the red of an apple,
From the swamp screams my second I: Save.

Is the dream over? — I do not know.
When I awoke in a garden so fair,
In sun's dew laurels — my world
Screamed: Save me, as there.

April 1940