This is the last year.
There will be no other,
but heartless nature
seemingly relents.
Never has a winter sun
spilled so much light,
never have so many flowers
dared such early bloom.
The air is brilliant, sharp.
Never have I taken
such long, long breaths.
Beauty is before me And beauty is behind me Above and below me hovers the beautiful I am surrounded by it I am immersed in it In my youth I am aware of it And in old age I shall walk quietly The beautiful trail.
