By the cold ticking hands of time I swear,
I have never held a grudge against anyone
save myself, my bitter self, too eager
always, to rectify and looking for the sun
even within the heaviest, darkest cloud!
By the unforgiving hands of time I promise,
there shall not be a tremor at my heart
for anything even a little less than what is
the origin of all the things and love,
anymore, I swear, so you’d better have no doubt!
By the ever gyrating hands of time I guarantee
this time around no well would ever cascade into springs!
I am the garden, unseeded, whose flowers’ knell has been rung,
fading away. So, break my heart for I must hold my tongue!