From the The seventh seal, by Ingmar Bergman
The time’s torment is like a deep carving
in the cruel reflection of mirrors,
it’s a spit on the glass and it steams up
every clear cut view of real world
The time falling is sunset, my time;
each mistake I did sits on a pile
of dumb cues now lost far in the past
and I worry about remaining days
The time sunset is like a ship stranded
where dreams crush and stub out and the eyes
wake-up to the nothing that haunts
my end and both the end of the world
March, around 14th 2018
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