"Recalling who I was, I see somebody else"

Recalling who I was, I see somebody else.
In memory the past become the present.
Who I was is somebody I love,
Yet only in dream.
The longing that torments me now
Is not from me nor by the past invoked,
But this who lives in me
Behind blind eyes.
Nothing knows me but the moment.
My own memory is nothing, and I feel
That who I am and who I was
Are two contrasting dreams...