Tempora novae

If I attribute more than its due share,
blame it on the overflowing barrages
Of my heart so blossomy, so bitter-bare
When the freshet drowns the fortresses,
the temples, the village-strewn meads in
a maelstrom of sweet forgotten glory
whereof pride produced a masterpiece
and vanity left it to rot in folly
It won’t be remembered for the havoc it wreaked
My flowers know but of springs serene
Let the annals speak, have the final say:
It will be remembered for new seeds,
new winds
new hopes
new doors
new songs and
new wings
new roses will bloom, petals fill the air
and new fates will seek and find this vale
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