Consolatrix Has Left The Building

Strolling all alone ... across the ancient cemetery ...-

tell me, isn't everything here ... of a timeless green?!

I see that several visitors are also gathered here,

having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard ... just like me.

I keep a candle burning for myselfe, so I won't feel all alone;

we should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all.

A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills,

felling everybody ... as it crawls upon the monuments ...-

only I escape its power, for the moment seem immune;

yet, two elderly ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb

are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain:

"The dead are furious with you!

as you're wasting your precious time!"

Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls;

I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the hours before dawn!"

These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us

they are the silent witnesses of a season about to pass;

I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life's finiteness,

that I am filled with fear and worry ... and so much shame because of this.

Well, everything I see, yes all the images are blurred,

it's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world.

How should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored,

considering the dreadful blindness with which I have been born.

We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all;

I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours ...

... right before the dawn!"