Under my pillow the whispering heart of Simone Weil
expresses sweet love better than I could ever hope to.
Please don't wake me only to face the day empty-handed.

    Under my pillow beaks Mozart among the nightingales;
sweet message of the soaring song at last loud and clear.
Don't wake me for surely I will come away with nothing.

    Under my pillow the fierce red eyes of the last demon
sink deeper into absurd years- were they ever real?
Don't rouse me now for I fear it would only end in tears.

    Under my pillow a country crossroads has a signpost
in disarray. Here I search all ways to reach my dear heart
by haunting field and hedgerow, let it take however long.