Above the ruins dances a light,
A last flicker,
Above me the stones, layer by layer,
A sea of rubble.
Between debris and shattered glass,
There grows the grass,
That sways and that
Gently trembles in the evening breeze.
Do not read any more when time passes.
As the wind blows away
What is still standing there,
The writing, so quickly weathered.
And from the depth there is no entreaty,
Everything black, I can not see.