De Profundis

Last hope is a tree in the cemetery
Pushing in full freedom, not planted by a grieving dictated -
Who floats along a humble stone.

On this tree, summer and winter, a bird is singing his song
Clear sadly true.
This tree and the bird is us:

You remember, my lack
That time - passing - identifies… Ah, still live at your feet!

Ah, exist? But what, my dear, Nothingness is my cold
Winner… At least, say, I live in your heart?

Paul Verlaine.