I have dreamed so much of you

that you lose your reality.

Is there still time to reach that living body

and kiss on that mouth the birth

of the voice which is dear to me.

I have dreamed so much of you,

that my arms accustomed while embracing your shadow

to folding over my breast would not bend

to the shape of your body perhaps.

And that, before the real appearance of what has haunted me

and ruled me for days and years

I should become doubtless a shade,

O sentimental scales

I have dreamed of you so much that it is no longer right

for me to awaken. I sleep standing my body exposed to

all the appearances of life and love, and you, the only

one who counts today for me, I could touch your brow

and your lips less

than the lips and brow of the finest person who came.

I have dreamed so much of you

walked so much, spoken, lain with your phantom that all

I have to do now perhaps is to be a phantom among

phantoms and a ghost a hundred times more than the

ghost who walks and will walk gaily over the sun-dial

of your life.

Robert Desnos

Friendz10