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Sweet dream it was and also sweet affliction,
when I was dreaming that it was a dream; a sweet delight I'd take in what deceived me, if only that deception longer seemed; a sweet not being in myself, I saw every good thing I'd ever want to see; a sweet pleasure it was, though so intense that sometimes it would just awaken me: oh sleep, how much more gentle and delightful you'd be if you would come so heavily that with more calm you'd set on me your weight! For while I slept, in short, I was in bliss, and it is right that one be blessed in lies who's always been in truth unfortunate. Juan Boscan (1490 - 1542) ©Alix Ingber, 1995 |
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