Strolling all alone... across the ancient cemetery...- tell me, isn't everything here... of a timeless green?! I see that several visitors are also gathered here, having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard... just like me. I keep a candle burning for myself, so I won't feel all alone; we should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all. A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills, felling everybody... as it crawls upon the monuments...- only I escape its power, for the moment seem immune; yet, two elderly ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain: "The dead are furious with you! as you're wasting your precious time!" Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls; I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the hours before dawn!" These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us they are the silent witnesses of a season about to pass; I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life's finiteness, that I am filled with fear and worry... and so much shame because of this. Well, everything I see, yes all the images are blurred, it's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world. How should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored, considering the dreadful blindness with which I have been born. We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all; I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours... ... right before the dawn!"