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| A man doesn't have time in his life |
| to have time for everything. |
| He doesn't have seasons enough to have |
| a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes |
| Was wrong about that. |
| |
| A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment, |
| to laugh and cry with the same eyes, |
| with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them, |
| to make love in war and war in love. |
| And to hate and forgive and remember and forget, |
| to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest |
| what history |
| takes years and years to do. |
| |
| A man doesn't have time. |
| When he loses he seeks, when he finds |
| he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves |
| he begins to forget. |
| |
| And his soul is seasoned, his soul |
| is very professional. |
| Only his body remains forever |
| an amateur. It tries and it misses, |
| gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing, |
| drunk and blind in its pleasures |
| and its pains. |
| |
| He will die as figs die in autumn, |
| Shriveled and full of himself and sweet, |
| the leaves growing dry on the ground, |
| the bare branches pointing to the place |
| where there's time for everything. |
