In thousands of windows the lights go out, people go to bed
But I still can’t understand what keeps me from falling asleep in peace
Without background noise, without the hum all around, without the bright computer screen
Without a thousand slippery hands that so diligently strangle me
They strangle and strangle me, a hundred people burst into my home
And they—with abysses instead of faces—sink dozens of nails into my neck
And I’m afraid of the coming morning, when these people will leave without a word
I’m afraid I’ll open my eyes and take another breath
I’m so afraid I’ll open my eyes and take another breath
I’m so afraid I’ll open my eyes, afraid I’ll open my eyes

When the new day never arrives
Bottomless puddles will swallow it whole, turning it into their own shadow
Then the half-asleep people will understand that reality was severed by a knife—by their Morpheus
By the knife of ancient, decrepit Morpheus