Nietzsche’s Dream

I could

sleep

all day

for

I haven’t

slept

in

nights.

The sky

(oh, brilliant hue)

is

indifferent

to

me.

What do

I

care

for this

blue

(Italian; almost Greek)

when

I

cannot

sleep.

It is

a

fight

to keep

my

eyes

open,

Mother.

My head

aches;

my feet,

too.

It feels

like

I have

walked

too

much.

In the

marketplace,

there is

a

horse,

I forget

its

name.

It

called

mine,

yesterday.

“Friedrich,”

it said;

though startled,

I

Ignored it,

and

walked

on.

Turin

is a

lovely

town,

but I

have had

such

dreams,

Mother.

When I sleep.

Loneliness

is as deep

as the

air

here,

in the mountains.

It

pierces

my

bones.

Perhaps

tomorrow I

shall

see the

horse,

and

feed

it

oats.

I had

a

dream

many

nights ago,

when

I

slept:

From Germany

a monster

rose; and

I wept.

Born in Ireland and raised in Canada, William Prendiville is the author of Atlantic Winds and Love is Nothing but the Fruit of a Long Moment.