The Dream (Marie-Thérèse)
Pablo Picasso, 1932
If you dream you are thirsty,
your thirst may become the bed of a lake
over which the pink moon of your breast
lifts the green cloud you are dressed in.
Volunteers lower a string
of round red and gold lanterns.
The pink fish of your right hand
nibbles the green fish of your left.
Who knows what the deep blue box
around which your body is lazily bent
once held? The colors you have become
thirst for each other. This is what
love is, you think, although you are dreaming,
and when you think this the lover
who is the green half of your face
turns and sips from the small red spoon of your lips.