Life is but a waking dream,

Surrounded by a fitful sleep.

We stagger around, to get Life started,

But it’s over, before it’s begun.

Me? I’ve been ambushed by the setting sun.

 

What, then, shall I say of this day?

That I lived, I loved, I met with friends,

But Mr Godot did not come,

Even though I waited,

Waited until the very end.

 

Mr Godot: he sees me from above,

A deity of parental love…

“Ah! My son is sleeping yet,

I shall wake him in a little while.

He’ll tell me of all the troubles he’s got!

Some dreams he may have remembered,

But most of them, he will have forgot!”