Everything is open here as low as its vain appearance,What gives wisdom is led by fate,
It goes up and down with such effort,
Without ever meet the condition of consistency.
What awake and sleep have so little differences,
Grand master in the art of love, you are very well in it
By appointing sleep image of death,
The life and sleep are just the same.
As we dream in our bed, a dream home,
Hoping without success, and fear without reason,
Return one day to our beloved home
Working with pain and sacrifice without recognition
O death, what is this life?
This is a dream which lasted a little more than a night.
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