And again, the days come and shorten

And the years are prolonged,

Only time slips like sand between the fingers.

​

You ask: Where to?

You wonder: what for?

Seeks to reveal the secret of the hidden light in the changing seasons.

​

The flight of storks is filling the skies

The squill candles are lit on the road,

And the smell of the first rain

In the evening breeze, lightly patting your chest

Shed the last

Of your sins

Off you.