“And I also have the impression—a bit inconsistent,
Like a dream based on jumbled realities—
That I left myself on a seat in the streetcar,
To be found by whoever was going to sit down there next.

And I also have the impression—a bit hazy,
Like a dream one tries to remember on waking up to the dim
light of dawn—
That there’s something better in me than myself.

Yes, I also have the impression—a bit painful,
As of waking up without dreams to a day full of creditors—
That I bungled everything, like tripping on a doormat,
That I got everything wrong, like a suitcase without toilet articles,
That I replaced myself with something at some point in my life.”