In the vortex of dance,
wandering in the labyrinth of time
she saw
the ephemerality of existence.
Today turns into yesterday
as in the Heraklite river
– fluid, smooth.
Although trees live longer than humans,
slouching between them
one can see the scattered dandelions.
And behind a tall wall of boxwood
there is everything
one cannot go back to.
Every ray of the sun
is a hope for existence,
even though
at some point it will
not allow for a gust of life.
Translated by Artur Komoter.