Sometimes at night I dream of Lisbon
Slack diary elapsing in sun
Crumbling in outdoor cafes, white that
Discolors fast, the steps now taken
The mouth sealed, the parchment uvula
A rippling, the disguising that you are.
In vain the ship hauls up the bluntness inside
Saudade dissolves in affectionate tide
But the morning will not steer time
Comfort you think, but it doesn’t
Still inhaling sleep, with the first sun
Sometimes at night I dream of Lisbon.