Shall we walk then,
You and I,
Through the quiescent, torpid night?
Tarry, if for a while, by the rocks—
Recall once again
the strife of youth, its transience.
Rain gathers at the edge of the hills.
Shall we drown in it
Our apathy, our hebetude?
It melts its way towards us.
Do you see a portent there?
Do you see how it carries on …
Its drops the memories of ages past …
Does it tell you something of oblivion,
Like so many bookmarks tucked into pages
Forgotten, once liked.