Classic Poem

No matter how fast I run
I can't help standing like a tree;
arms spread as if looking for something when there's nothing to look for
I try to rest my heels temporarily on something reliable

Not into the night
but into something the night exposes by darkening it
I enter;
while hesitating where to put the lamp for not losing sight
what I can illuminate disappears;
and so the depth grows ever more exposed,
which I try to pull toward myself;
but before even kissing it I spread my arms
and go on falling, and while falling,
thinking I ought to wake up, uselessly —

— Even when a flock of distances supported me somewhere
because I did not know the origins of those distances
I couldn't say they were not a dream;
there was no pain to wake me
I go on spreading without stopping
but like a clumsy tree I'm certain only of my spread,
I'm not at all certain of my position;
even if the sun begins to shine now
because I can see the ground, see the sky
and I can't see anything else
and even if the night comes again
I can see the things the daytime hid
even then I still can't see anything