In a dream
I was asked the way, and I told him.
He walked off in the direction I pointed,
stepping on the undergrass in a sparse stand of trees.

It was the wrong path.
After walking about awhile
I left by another narrow path,
but it was because the morning was there.

He must still be continuing
to wander in my dream,
the night continuing on, no daybreak in sight,
beyond the sparse stand of trees. . . .

Shall I crouch like this by the narrow path
to wait awhile, getting wet with dew?
He might come back
and violently take me into the depths of dreams.

Shall I imprison him in a dream dungeon with no way out,
and secretly torment him for a long, long time,
a man who has walked through all my dark corners
that I myself have never stepped in?