By the living light...

Out in the sky,
no one sleeps.
No one, no one.
No one sleeps.
Lunar creatures sniff and circle the dwellings.
Live iguanas will come to bite the men who
don't dream, and the broken-hearted fugitive
will meet on street corners an incredible crocodile
resting beneath the tender protest of the stars.

Out in the world, no one sleeps.
No one, no one.
No one sleeps.
there is a corps in the farthest graveyard
complaining for three years because of an arid
landscape in his knee;
and a boy to call the dogs to quiet him.

Life is no dream.
Watch out !
Watch out !
We fall down stairs and eat the moist earth,
or we climb to the snow's edge with the
choir of dead dahlias.
But there is no oblivion,
no dream:
raw flesh. 
Kisses tie mouths in a tangle of new veins
and those in pain will bear it with no respite
and those who are frighten by death will carry
it on their shoulders.

Out in the sky,
No one sleeps,
No one, no one.
No one sleeps.
But if someone closes his eyes,
whip him, my children, whip him !
Let there be a panorama of open eyes
and bitter inflamed wounds.
Out in the world,
no one sleeps.
No one.
No one.
I've said it before.
No one sleeps.

But at night,
if someone has too much moss
on his temples,
open the trapdoors so he can see
in moonlight the fake goblets,
the venom, and the skull of the
theatres.

To days night life's...