Ah, sadness and triteness - no soul a hand to extend
In times of severe travail...
The years are flurrying, flying - those years that matter – and end! –
And wishing forever - to no avail...
To love, and to dote? - on whom? - so meaningless love when it passed,
Impossible - loving forever.
A look at my soul - there isn't a trace of the past,
My agonies, joys - what a paltry endeavor...
Come, passions? - so bitter and sweet, so bound to pass
When reason eventually ripens;
And life, as you cast a dispassionate careful glance,
Is only a silly and meaningless trifle...