Time hurries on, with exotic flavours in its flight.
We're off to Hera's Garden, on a mesmerizing journey, Where the second nymph surrounds us in blooms of delight, Where gentle waves wrinkle the smooth sheet of the sea, And a pond unfurls parchment scrolls from heavenly worlds.
The wind's fingers, bejewelled with golden rings, Hold feathers to write on traces of sacred words.
Through the hourglass, gems of sand are shining, Sifting filtered light as we move through our days, Pulsating to the rhythm of our heart's beating,
Time echoes between peaks lit by the sun's rays,
Two lovers whispering "yes," responding, repeating, Time slides to earth, a star free-falling from the sky.
As the hour rings out from every belfry in the town, This music of our day is enough to remind us why To embrace the world, we need to listen to its sounds.
Elusive time passes, while objects remain.
The past is transformed into compelling new forms.
As in a dried fruit, a dormant seed waits again, With each passing season, time is once more rebom.