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THE CLOCK A POEM FOR JONZAC-ALMIGHTY
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HOLLOW WORDS TURN TO POETRY.
The Clock Clock! Sinister god, frightening, impassive,
Whose finger threatens us and says: "Remember!,
Soon throbbing Pain will pierce your
Fearful heart, like a bull's-eye;
Vaporous Pleasure will flee toward the horizon,
Like a sylph running backstage;
Each instant devours a morsel of the delight
Accorded each man for his entire season.
Three thousand six hundred times per hour, the Second
Whispers: Remember! -- Quick, with its
Insect voice, Now both say: I am Formerly,
And I have pumped away your life with my filthy snout!
Souviens-toi! Remember! Prodigal! Esto memor!
(My metal throat speaks every language.)
Minutes, playful mortal, are the ore you must not
Let go until you have extracted all its gold!
Remember that Time is a greedy gambler
Who wins without cheating, every time! That's the law.
The day wanes; night waxes; remember!
The abyss is always thirsty; the water-clock empties.
Soon the hour will strike when divine Chance,
When august Virtue, your still virgin bride,
When even Repentance (oh! the last inn of refuge!),
When everything will tell you: Die, old coward! It is too late
