Under the rising water of the dream,
My soul is afraid, my soul is afraid.
And the moon shines in my heart
Plunged into the well-springs of the dream!

Under the mournful boredom of the reeds,
Only the profound reflection[s] of things,
Of lilies, of palms, and of roses,
Still weep at the bottom of the waters.

The flowers drop their petals one by one
On the reflection of the sky
In order to sink eternally
Under the water of the dream and into the moon.