‘Even such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;’
Sir Walter Raleigh
I turn towards you,
season veiled in sadness,
in which all our hopes
and all our ambitions,
came to an end.
I beg you,
which my friend loved like a woman,
now that the waters no longer flow
in the splendour of his words
and the light
has become void of light.
O serene breeze,
come, wipe away the dust
that covered over
the happy days I still remember!
Come, ancient breath of ageless angels,
and make white roses bloom
from the earth which welcomed into its gentle warmth
the translucent singer of eternity!
Translated from the French of Athanase Vantchev de Thracy by Norton Hodges