Years (9-11-44)

Like the withered leaves
Times fall, years fall
From the tree of eternity,
And with these times
The time assigned to us shortens
for all, for us all.

And we think: Earlier were
Better times, better years,
But that’s long ago,
And what will the future bring?
Good years? Bad years?
Or does a fate fulfill itself?

And do we go like withered leaves
Before the times, before the years,
Early on the path of eternity?
I resist in my dreams:
First, peace must come
And a new time for us.