The landscape a frozen diorama in the autumnal gloom
of a dim afternoon, the wind stilled, birds silenced,
and I, stuck behind this window looking out,
glued and painted by the untiring hands of years
which created this moment of April desolation
like apes write Shakespeare's collected works.
When shall the sluggish time move its dials
to the moment when other trees than these
stand bare and dark over disturbed soil,
on some bleak day when in uncounted
dimensions Juliet and Romeo live
happily in consummated love,
and Hamlet sits crowned on the throne?
26.04.2021
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