When One Has Reached the Age of Eighty-Five
Music:
Fugue in Eb from the Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 2. Subscribe to this site on Substack |
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When one has reached the age of
eighty-five, And years, like mountains crossed, are soft with haze, It is a triumph simply to survive. One is where few have managed
to arrive, And when one can do more than
be alive, To breathe, to be satiate, to
desire, to derive And memories of infancy revive, To hold together this one
world, to strive
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