Oh, to decide how much light to let in
And trick her into standing still, when all
She is is movement and passing! Letting
You believe you can freeze her, after all,
Is one of her favourite pastimes; Lasting
Is reserved for her alone, even skies
Are filled with dying, but she is the last thing
On my mind when I cannot see your eyes.
What an easy trap this setting, like mine
And what a narrow corridor it takes
To seduce this mistress called simply Time
At the perfect barrier your camera makes
Making pretty castles from her quickest sands
We have been exposed in so many ways
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem