Lovers, you fiery lovers,
who fill my dreams
with heady spices
and aromas from the Orient,
with beautiful things from home
and enchanting landscapes,
who are you?
How can I
fall in love with my dreams?
What is reality?
Just the one that we see
or the one that we live?
Who can say for sure
what dreams are?
It's because of this, my fiery lovers,
that I wait for you every night.
Because everything is real
and I don't want to lose even a moment
of love,
not even dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem