In times when seconds and hours are pearls of sand

In times when seconds and hours are pearls of sand, And each of us, travelers under the same sky, tread cautiously, We have all known the shadow of loss, the cold of death lays enfeebled, And the muse of silence raises the question that now eternally watches. We were not given the choice of how we bend from this book, Which, unwritten, life fails to etch its end. We stand then before the choice between lightning and the beating interval, To the extent that this truth catches us under its rounded sun. Is it better to die abruptly, like a candle simply snuffed out? The moment that passes suddenly, it goes and you're no more, vanished. In deafening solitude maybe, among emptied rooms and unseen breeze, Without goodbye, or time to make peace with the world, the silent step. Or maybe, with a horizon half a year away your term is drawn, Your soul dwindles, the days awkwardly slow the ticking of the clock. The burden becomes palpable, in a march of unceasing pain, Uncertain dawns scatter, wondering - is today the rest? And the moments lose their secret fight on the faces of those close to you, But your lips are a shelter for the words that want to be spoken. And you get your goodbye, though you can't escape from silence and peace, You tie, untie knots and bid farewell to the world, with the bur of the soul on the cross. And the paradox of death, which places the torch burning on the guard of life, Affects much more fiercely those who continue their thread in reality, Than on those who weave their dreaming in the land of shadows dreaming, The departed are all mute, without questions, in eternity.