Bacchanalia Comments
The evening comes, the fields are still.
The tinkle of the thirsty rill,
Unheard all day, ascends again;
Deserted is the half-mown plain,
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Stillness versus excess. Sooner or later, the young people and their new ideas will leave the field, and their time on the stage will end. No matter what man wants, time will move on and the world will no longer be his orchard. These things are unchanging- an earthly definition of immortality.
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7/30/2025 4:43:19 AM # 1.0.0
Nice work with the muse of life, nature and art!