When I look back at all the things I did,
Or failed to do, when time stretched on for ever,
When summer followed spring and autumn slid
By slowly, into winter’s icy river;
Then each day seemed to last a year and all
The years slipped by like sleepers in a trance,
Drifting through darkest night. See how they fall
Away like leaves, while others take their chance.
Hellbent on pleasure, thus we found new pain,
Choosing the nails for our own crucifixion,
Doing the vile deed again—and yet again—
Trapped in the maze of mindless repetition.
Regrets, regrets!—‘I’ve no regrets,’ fools prattle,
Plodding on to their slaughterhouse like cattle.