十一月 1st, 2008
Lord,it is time.The Summer was too long.
Lay your shadow on the sundials now,
and through the meadows let the winds throng.
Ask the last fruits to ripen on the vine;
give them further two more summer days,
to bring about perfection and to raise
the final sweetness in the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will establish none,
whoever lives alone now will live on long alone,
will waken, read, and write long letters,
wander up and down the barren paths
the parks expose when leaves are brown.
The leave are falling, falling from far away,
as though a distant garden died above us;
they fall,fall with denial in their wave.
And through the night the hard earth falls
farther than the stars in solitude.
We are all falling.Here, this hand falls.
And see: there goes another. It’s in us all.
And yet there’s One whose gently holding hands
let this falling fall and never land.