Time and eons in slumber,
Under the ocean of deluge,
Emerged in jubilation,
Awakening from a lengthy sleep.
Its reflections transformed into nature,
Creator and me.
On its rampart above, the aeons are born
And hidden away in oblivion,
Through innumerable millenniums.
Where seasons, are adopted as
Progeny, in the Universe.

And you come, escorted by them, in foursome flanks
Of spring, summer, winter and autumn,
In a chariot, brought from heaven, and bestow
Upon us, with all its magnificence and terrors.
In the confluence of the seasons,
The lamp you light in the firmament on
The Milky Way, diffuse its charms
Into the horizon; fabulous, amazing, and dandy!
Persevering, through boundless equinoxes…
Our existence is nothing but a sound
In an immense ocean of silence, and of time.
Where life and memory are meaningless,
Struggles and happiness are empty bubbles…


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