Wrinkles that are the bed for a river of tears
Create a sad picture, some landscape of sorrow.
And topping the mountain made of piled memories,
The white hair on their head looks like eternal snow.
They’ve been waiting so long for the time of berries,
And yet it did not come, time has stopped on “never”;
Watch the hands, they still turn, the hourglass empties,
Is it wise to pretend that it does not matter?
There and then I do walk that spleen of mine,worthless.
As I would with a pet, the solitude I please;
Suddenly, the rupture. And a change in the pace,
To find myself running faster than I can breathe.
Carried by that same will presumed lost formerly,
Towards all that I crave, I dream and desire.
Don’t you dare stand between me and my destiny
This is no place to be, the path’s paved with fire.
Putting all that I have in this final attempt
For I won’t have the strength to dance another waltz;
And I’ll have no regrets should I succeed or fail,
Secured in the knowledge that I least I have tried.