There is no contending with time
Time, when passed, is difficult to face
It is worse than the bandit
Worse than the insolent spawn of the rabble.
It can not be stared down, intimidated, humiliated,
It sneaks up on you, in your sweetest slumber
When your eye is shut and your heart is in a vault
When you, in primordial oblivion, wallow in self-ignorance.
In filthy innocence like a fish in polluted water
Like a sleeping seed, which has produced no wheat
A dormant pyramid, unaware of the dusty millennia
Gathering sand and roughness upon its magnificent flanks.
You might emerge from the subterranean cave
Like a chthonic god surprised that its temple is gone
Swept away by time, by the creeping of a new soul
Heralding an irreverent zeitgeist.
And then, eyelids heavy with Hadean sleep
You welcome the sunlight into your skull
Unfolding, slowly, like a wet flower
A child of nature, raised by nymphs.
But woe to man, woe to man!
Time, with its cart and oxen, has ploughed the horizon!
In its rude sun-barge, it has upturned the mile-stones
As indifferent as that goddess of salt and wind, Katarina
Pulling all, pushing all, into the upward spiral of the Unknown.
Stand up, soldier, have you been sleeping on your watch?!
Come to attention; acknowledge your superiors
Woe to you, solider, for the court martial is without mercy
And the gallows are near.
Where have the sun-months gone,
Where have the moon-months gone?
Where, my dear, have gone all those seconds
Slipping silently through the sand clock embrasure.
Counting your breaths
In, out, inhale, exhale
The labor of everyday is the labor of an aeon
And time, oh sweet time, has passed.
Time has passed, my dear, time has passed
And with its passing left you in the past
Retroverted, backward, straggling
Abandoned, left-behind, overtaken.
Where the harvest has been collected
You still plough the earth
Where the wheat is now bread
You still separate the chaff.
Woe to me, brothers and sisters
Dearest siblings and blood-kin
Tender ancestors whose breath begot us
Though mother earth has now swallowed their limbs.
Gone, dearest friend, gone
Are those days of sweet venison
Those winds, those impetuous gales
Screaming with Dionysiac joy.
Deep in a tar pit, up to your neck
The lips of the pit insurmountable
Deep, deep down, in black tar you stand
Forgotten, forlorn, hardly awake.
Like the figures of Pompeii
Entombed in sleep
Time has eaten, and has drunk
Over your weary body.
But the cocoon cracks, dear God
The savior is near
With golden wings, with a thousand sparks
A fresh-winged butterfly emerges.
And what is this world for, dear man?
Beyond its rims, what lies?
Can a giant truly jump over its borders?
And then lie at peace in empty space?
A telescope shows but a pinpoint of space
No single mind can gather infinity
But a single field is part of the vast lowlands
And even infinity can divide.