Our lot, my dear boy,
Is this easy load –
We'll move along a straight line,
Called Time.
One's memory cannot match it –
And that means we're in luck.
Time teaches us to forget it all,
The good and the bad.
What of welcomes and farewells
When one can’t even remember a face?
But objects, loyal to us,
Remember it all.
They remember it all…
A boat remembers a pier, an oar -
Waters of the river;
Sheet of paper remembers a quill, and the quill -
Warmth of a hand;
Walls and doorways remember people,
Each in his turn;
A road remembers those who walked off along it,
A trigger remembers a shot.
Still, day after day goes by -
Guess it's not time yet.
For now, objects keep silent
And do not bother us.
They might come awake one summer day
Or amid deep winter
To remind us of all
That we have forgotten…