My nose finds itself hidden promiscuously in my textbooks,
And I pretend that the persistence of memory is reliable.
Yet as the aroma of spring blossoms wafts into this dormitory
One last time, I remember — If only for a moment —
That the moment I remember — as I forget —
Is stored up within the heavenly places.
My blind nostalgia and anticipation
Have not yet forgotten this:
Eternity is written
not on my mind,
but in my
Heart