Play in the Night

                      --Michael Kwack

 

 

From two o’clock

When owls hoot

Up to four when cocks crow

Surely I will be kept awake,

 

To watch the secret play

Of the conscious and unconscious.

 

However, I will not see

The queer performance inside me

As a mere dream in the night.

 

If I long for better plays,

More will I wander during the day,

 

The door of thought closed,

The window of sense opened,

Reeling on through the street,

Facing everything, until worn out,

 

For that will make the play at night

A much more splendid one.

 

Then all I have to do is sit

On the border of sleeping-awaking,

And open all my eyes and ears,

Only to wait, with no words.

 

Once I have known that on the inside

I have the scenery, much flashier

Than the fires in the black firmament

On rainy and windy summer nights,

 

Perhaps never will I feel

Alone and lonely ever again.