In between the ebb of thoughts and the flow
of sleep I have a minute of eternity for gathering
metaphors.

But before I can bend to pick up the first
one, a wave washes over me and the turbulent deep engulfs me. Some

time later I wake up, because the sun
is sticking its fingers in my eyes. I don't remember much.

In my right pocket I've a pebble, a jellyfish in my left,
in my mouth - sand.

Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones