I have slept in many rooms
In near lands and far lands
And have had many dreams.
In these rooms woven jaguars prowl
And wooden horses glow.
Painted Virgins bless with tin eyes.
From beds of straw to beds of down
From hammocks hung above the sands
Visions have rolled across my brow.
Sometimes alone, sometimes held close
I feel the night pass in pain, in peace, in passion,
With rain, with gale, with hope.
In the day I may sweep these rooms and arrange flowers,
Or turn away, never to return,
But each room lies across me as I lay across it
On my road of rooms