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