Time

Alas, alas for time, whose gradual years
Steal youth and passion from us and leave tears,
Till finally even tears desert our eyes;
Bright love abandons us: we're proclaimed wise.

Then, unremembered, we, with whitened hair
Step silently upon the marble stair,
Descending all alone into the dark
For none to mourn and few to even mark.

And so we come at last unto the stream
That quenches all desire and every dream:
The vision of all fears: when we must ride
The dismal ship of ruin upon the tide.

Then all our valiant efforts to survive
Avail us not: to death we all arrive:
And some arrive in peace, and some in fear,
And some in pain that wracks each lengthening year.

The lord, the lady, hero, lover, slave --
All, all must glide upon this gloomy wave
To come at last unto the unknown shore
Where all is lost in time's eternal roar.*



I found a translation of one of Ovid's shorter poems and the translation was so
unpoetical that I thought it might be fun to take the existing flotsome and cast it into a more elegant form.

copyright 2008 Anissa Nedzel Gage