It is better, truly, not to know the final end of things, nor guess
At what the heavens hold in store for us. You could try --
But why?
We’re better off embracing whatever comes our way, enjoying
This winter whether we’ll see ten more, or only one --
Or none.
Even the cliffs shall one day reach their end, drowned
And slowly ground into dust by the restless sea --
Same as we.
Smile, then. Enjoy your wine, and cease these thoughts
Of future years. With every second, time is slinking past--
And wine won’t last.
Thus, carpe diem (as they say)
Tomorrow’s nothing. There’s only today.
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