Time moves swiftly, like an eagle towering the sky,
Wrapping up things, making notations, leaving quotes,
And prints, prints that can not be denied.
Time moves swiftly, while eagles tower the sky,
Sighting the horizon, drilling their young,
garnishing the sand with prints, prints of a gay past-time.
Wide are wings, reaching down through centuries of joys,
Frustrations and misgivings. She may flow through days'
Raging scarlet, or soft black velvet of night.
Her kisses are flung, but disappear in the darkness,
Then we want more of her, but forget our abundant waste,
While grandfathers toll softly in a rhythmic pace.
Should we blame her for our nakedness, and curse with
Sighs and regrets? No, we must walk in readiness,
Time moves swiftly, wrapping up things.