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Daydreams Have Endlessly Turning Paths

Daydreams have endlessly turning
paths going over the bitter
earth, winding roads,
parks flowering, in darkness and in silence;
 
deep vaults, ladders against the stars;
scenes of hopes and memories.
Tiny figures that walk past and smile
—sad playthings for an old man—,
 
friends we think we see
at the flowery turn in the road,
and imaginary creatures
that show us roads... far off...
 
Translated by Robert Bly
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