Pink Floyd , A pillow of winds

A cloud of eiderdown
Draws around me
Softening a sound.
Sleepy time, and I lie,
With my love by my side,
And she's breathing low.

And the candle dies.

When night comes down
You lock the door.
The book falls to the floor.
As darkness falls
The waves roll by,
The seasons change
The wind is wry.

Now wakes the hour
Now sleeps the swan
Behold the dream
The dream is gone.
Green fields are calling
It's falling, in a golden door.

And deep beneath the ground,
The early morning sounds
And I go down.
Sleepy time, and I lie,
With my love by my side,
And she's breathing low.

And I rise, like a bird,
In the haze, when the first rays
Touch the sky.

And the night wings die.

Federico Garcia Lorca, Donovan,Unsleeping City [HD]

in contrast many matters/things gain clearer form and view-
but beware of too much contrast.
sometimes a veil is beautiful such as dust swirling
across the desert...clouds in the sky, shadows and rings and ripples in the water..
to hide ugliness, plastic bottles, shopping bags , to forget bad memories
or to cover just too much blinding brightness.

Donovan, The River Song (Original)

City That Does Not Sleep, Federico Garcia Lorca

before i sleep, i place this poem next to the last one,
both belong together, in my own way of  'seeing'-
our world is rich and raw and simple and complex,
all depends on the gates of perception and attitude,
and we live with polarity-
not opposites : opposition makes blind.

all is exploration and adventure with eyes open,
and misfortunes just happen and go.

only the bad ..does not disappear forever...take care...'Careful! Careful! Careful!'-
only not to waste too much time on being careful ...

from the serenity prayer of which i like only the first part:

"God, give me grace to accept with serenity

the things that cannot be changed,

Courage to change the things

which should be changed,

and the Wisdom to distinguish

the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,

Enjoying one moment at a time,

Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,...."

City That Does Not Sleep

Federico García Lorca, 1898 - 1936

In the sky there is nobody asleep.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the 
            street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
            stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream.  Careful!  Careful!  Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
            dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists.  Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

One day 
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
            eyes of cows.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful!  Be careful!  Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention 
            of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
            are waiting,
where the bear’s teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world.  No one, no one.
I have said it before.

No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
            night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.

Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXXXI

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all. 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ya eres mía. Reposa con tu sueño en mi sueño. 
Amor, dolor, trabajos, deben dormir ahora.
Gira la noche sobre sus invisibles ruedas 
y junto a mí eres pura como el ámbar dormido

Ninguna más, amor, dormirá con mis sueños.
Irás, iremos juntos por las aguas del tiempo.
Ninguna viajará por la sombra conmigo,
sólo tú, siempreviva, siempre sol, siempre luna.

Ya tus manos abrieron los puños delicados
y dejaron caer suaves signos sin rumbo,
tus ojos se cerraron como dos alas grises,

mientras yo sigo el agua que llevas y me lleva:
la noche, el mundo, el viento devanan su destino,
y ya no soy sin ti sino sólo tu sueño.