Another night falls

              O, for a moment of tenderness,
              of sweet conversation
              with my friend,
              for the battle rages
              unremittingly,
              as storm clouds pile up against the sky,
              hiding the sun
              and weighing down the earth
              with threats, not rain.

              Sullen silence not blessed repose
              suffocates not revives
              the soul of waiting,
              while faithfulness fingers
              the knotted rope of prayers,
              and hope tries to remember
              to feed itself,
              and sleep forgets what night is
              and what is day.

              Time never rolls backwards
              but always marches on,
              never waits, nor slows nor runs,
              and always opens
              to dangerous, unknown lands,
              where we rise or fall, live or die,
              when we find our friend waiting,
              or else no one,
              only cold, stony soil.

— Romanós