Too early on a February morning, I go out, Yesterday evening still dim... Ultimately, why think about it? Someone will turn up who'll tell me all about it. A handful of pearls in my palm-- Here's the way I'll remain secretive. Thank you for this gift-- The ability to sleep and to dream; Dreams of something greater. When day of judgment comes What will I say to you? That I didn't see the sense of doing it poorly, And didn't see a chance to do it better? Evidently, something passed us by, And I don't know how to tell myself about it. There's a reason all the mirrors in the house are made of clay, So that in the morning one can't discern in one's eyes Dreams of something greater.