It Was the Same
There will no longer be home,
smoke from the chimney.
There will be no tomorrow.
cannot withstand the pressure of time.
In the crooked house
a hunched woman
It's like it used to be,
out there behind the house flows a river.
the children do not have time to look at old age.
Time took away youth
– like the night takes away the evening.
There is no longer smoke from the chimney,
and there behind the house
still flows a river.
-- tr. Artur Komoter
Ruined House -- John Sell Cotman