European Elegies/Winter/The clock
42.THE CLOCK
Clock! dull, dread, passionless divinity,Whose finger writes “Remember” with a threat,In thy pale heart are quivering sorrows setLike arrows that in mortal quarries lie.
For thee, the shadowy joys in pleasure’s mimeDance swiftly from the stage like choral sprites;Each moment slays a share of the delightsGranted each man for his appointed time.
Three thousand and six hundred times each hourThy tickings lisp “Remember”—Insectlike,The present’s buzzing voice says: Still I strikeAnd with my unclean beak your days devour.
Remember time insatiate casts his dieAnd wins without deceit or word gainsaid.“Remember!” The day wanes. The shadows spread.The thirsty gulf still gapes. The glass runs dry.
From the French of Charles Baudelaire.