After years, after eternity, have you come;
The world has grown older in the meantime.
Time has had its day, its victory over memories.
We have become but shadows of ourselves.
Writing on the sands, in isolation, my fingers thinning,
I could unroll each minute rolled in then.
Don’t look at me in pity.
Just tell me how things have been.
Is the monument of life still standing?
Was it easy to forget the point where the rivers met?