Almost without waking, yet still without dreaming, almost seeming
And almost hoping, hoping, yet still not knowing reason
Also in the valleys, on the road through the black mountains
To be told of the worlds greatest thief, and his more ingenious apprentice
It is the blue-sky morning, with sun’s heat warm and rising
It is the great humanity, shared by those who love sharing
And the days are ever better, and the nights reserved for singing
Mingling with the poets, whose life is of all the seasons
We are jingling two together, for the two together dreaming
