Il dépend de celui qui passe
que je sois tombe ou trésor,
que je parle ou me taise,
ceci ne tient qu’à toi –
Ami, n’entre pas sans désir... Paul Valéry
Tomb or treasure? Both hint musty hold
Of dust which when against a feather weighed
Must be found wanting - uprightness unpaid.
Beauty: barter bait, ghost lure lost gold.
Oh, no allure escapes Time’s stranglehold.
Regrets are rife. All qualities displayed
Time, heedless, turns to ashes which degrade
Reason as its season can’t enfold
Eternity, both sot and sage had sold
All precious for an extra life-line frayed,
Sold soul for sole extension core betrayed.
Unprincipled, most sleep through life's poor scold,
Regret chance dance, askance refuse, lose way -
Expect advancement, heedless, seedless st[r]ay...
17 December 1991 revised 15 October 2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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