Another morning
has seen you sleep placidly before the alarm
and then wake up, mildly but brutal,
determined as the snow outside,
to fulfill your roll till the end,
till the last flake has fallen.
Then a new morning will witness you,
believing to have seen a one-time wonder,
while I know there´s nothing more permanent
than the strenght of your vitality.
For every day the sun goes out,
and we grow old or young, but you do both,
you live and die all together,
filling all your days with sorrow and glory.
The workday ends for me too
and I go back to my petty laments,
the fallen snow has vanished as if by magic,
and the day looks just the same,
except for the hours stolen away.
