Your hair is lost in the forest,
your feet touching mine.
Asleep you are bigger than the night,
but your dream fits within this room.
How much we are who are so little!
Outside a taxi passes
with its load of ghosts.
The river that runs by
Will tomorrow be another day?
Octavio Paz, from The Collected Poems of Octavio Paz, 1957-1987 (New Directions, 1987)