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Time with his pointed shafts has hit my heart
and split my gut, laid open my entrails,
landed me a blow that will not heal,
knocked me down, left me in lasting pain.
Time wounded me…
I have a son, a little son,
a youngster mighty fine!
and when I look at him I feel
that all the world is mine.
But seldom do I see him when
he’s wide awake and bright.
I always find him sound…
[May] your mornings [be] blessed,
[May] your life [be] long,
[May] your enemies [be] shrouded, dead,
[May] your [hot] breakfasts [be] poured, cooled.