Time flows in the streambed of our fate,
Draws us to the mouth, to endless oceans
Through the rapids of despair and hate,
Floating on the surface of emotions.
Ancient jugs of being, they run out,
And the paintings on the wall are fading,
Our hands begin to fail with gout,
Our future seems to go degrading.
Let us quietly accept the cup.
Why stand up in curiosity and foment
Fires that will never worm us up?
Let us just enjoy the very moment!