Cold sweat in a terrible dream —
A vaccine against reality,
So that in a happy awakening
You’d rejoice at that ordinary life
Which already irritated,
And now in its banality
Has become attractive.

In prison the destitute, exhausted one
Will be carried to his native land:
Not parted from love,
Not detained for slander,
Given drink and fed —
Isn’t that paradise?

Truth exists in the world.
If not in waking life,
Where they beat and the beaten walk,
Then in a dream I’ll find it.