The Hourglass
The sand lay still and the sunshine scorched
Its yellow, loose pate, all a shine.
One pinch was soldered in glass with a torch;
Now watch
How the sand measures time.
Not for years-just for minutes
the hourglass will run,
Yet time we control within it:
When the sand runs out,
turn the glass upside down
And the end,
Will become the beginning.
It seems to me,
Too,
that I am the same:
Towards night, when my energy's
on the wane,
I drop off like dead on a bed or sofa.
Then at dawn I get up,
hale and hearty again,
As if I had been turned over.
And maybe, our death is similar, too:
Our friends fresh pine-planks prepare,
Yet death simply turns us over anew,
Like an hourglass;
again year by year runs through,
And we never know wear or tear...
Ingen kommentarer:
Legg inn en kommentar