Reality

That reality in which I live

is likely different from the one you know.

It is the space in which I must survive;

It’s through this land, this country that I go.

It’s likely different from the one you know:

to you, this is a dream in which I’m caught.

But through this land, this country I must go—

I’d paint it for you if I had the art

To you, this is a dream in which I’m caught

Which, come the dawn, will surely quickly pass.

I’d paint it for you if I had the art,

Or maybe I should write it in a verse.

But now the dawn has come, it does not pass,

this figment of my own imagination.

Maybe I should write it in a verse

with Frida as my muse and inspiration

This figment of my own imagination

is the space in which I must survive,

with Frida as my muse and inspiration—

that reality in which I live.