Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Let fall your shadows on the sundials,upon the fields let loose your winds.
Command the last fruits to be full; give them just two more southern days,
Press them to completion, and chase the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Who has no house now – he will never build.
Whoever is alone now, long will so remain; will stay awake, and read, and write long letters and wander the alleys up and down, restless, as the leaves are drifting.
Rainer Maria Rilke (Trsl. C.Z.)
