The nocturnal hills were as crumpled bedsheets

In which birds had nested. Remember:

One can trust only chance discoveries

I found the remnants of someone’s coat

That had become hooked on an oar. The heap

Resembles only second-hand clothing and

Concentration camps, and here? A massive laundering

Arranged for us by the nightlong fog?

As though a hotel had been opened above the sleek

Smoothness of the lake –

Lighted lanterns illuminate the water through-and-through

A fire ladder leads down to the floorbed sands below

One could spend the night airborne, if only the earth

Wouldn’t persist in one’s dreams along with its putrid

Cemetery! With a whole bundle of insulted

Coats, abandoned shoes and deserted hats!

One must be cautious, so as not to slip on a dead shirt,

For example. – It’s enough not to close the window to

Keep away moths, that transport the virus of a different light.

The act of one of the dreams took place in a wardrobe

Which initiates the opposing universe.