They don’t know that the dream
is a constant in life
so concrete and defined
as anything else,
like this gray stone
where I sit and rest,
like this gentle stream
in calm leaps and bounds,
like these high pine trees
that wave in green and gold,
like these birds that scream
in blue drunkness.
They do not know that the dream
it is wine, foam, yeast,
it is an acidic and thirsty bug,
with a pointed snout,
which digs through everything
in a perpetual movement.
They don’t know that the dream
is canvas, color, brush,
base, shaft, capital,
arch in ogive, stained glass window,
cathedral pinnacle,
counterpoint, symphony,
Greek mask, magic,
which is an alchemist's retort,
distant world map,
windrose, Infant,
16th century caravel,
which is Cape of Good Hope,
gold, cinnamon, ivory,
swordsman rapier,
backstage, dance step,
Colombina and Harlequin,
catwalk flying,
lightning rod, locomotive,
boat with festive bow ,
blast furnace, generator,
atom split, radar,
ultrasound, television,
rocket landing
on the lunar surface.
They do not know neither dream they,
dreams rule the life,
And whenever a man dreams
the world jumps and moves forward
like a colored ball
between a child' s hands.