So now I say again,
time is slipping through palms, unrelenting, instant,
into sand, through the sand, like rain;
granted Lethe's indeed a flux
separating two worlds so crudely distant,
ages lull it and guard the clues.
But a vaster one there is,
shores resisting not to it, names diffusing
to dissolve in it, bottomless,
saturating to never cease,
dark and crystal fluid, alive in music,
and between the lines interleaves.
To reenter it, no one's entitled,
nor to rise to the hidden crest
where Time is sleeping, compacted tightly,
on Eternity's marble chest.
Original: Marina Katys, from "How the Universe Exploded"
padaread.com/?book=22231&pg=134
www.stihi.ru/2007/03/19-484