The Clock
The Clock! a sinister, impassive god
Whose threatening finger says to us:
'Remember!
Soon in your anguished heart, as in a target,
Quivering shafts of Grief will plant themselves;
Vaporous Joy glides over the horizon
The way a sylphid flits into the wings;
Each instant eats a piece of the delight
A man is granted for his earthly season.
Three thousand and six hundred times an hour
The Second sighs,
Remember! - Suddenly
That droning insect Now says: I am Past
And I have sucked your life into my nostril!
Esto memor! Remember! Souviens-toi!
(My metal throat speaks out in a every language)
Don't let the minutes, prodigal, be wasted -
They are the ore you must refine for gold!
Remember, Time is greedy at the game
And wins on every roll! perfectly legal.
The day runs down; the night comes on;
remember!
The water-clock bleeds into the abyss.
Soon sounds the hour when Chance the heavenly,
When Virtue the august, eternal virgin,
When even (oh! your last retreat) Repentance,
Will tell you: Die old coward! it's too late!'
Přeložil James McGowan