jmtpg

Our future days stand before us
Like a row of glowing little candles -
Golden, warm and lively little candles.

Days past wait behind us,
A mournful line of extinguished candles
The nearest still guttering smoke,
cold candles, melted and bent.

I do not want to see them; their shape saddens me,
As it saddens me to remember their first light.
I look to my lit candles ahead.

I do not want to turn lest I see and shudder at
How quickly the dark line lengthens,
How quickly the dead candles multiply.

C. Cavafy