Who

Who will be the love of my lover

the master of my dog, the child from my youth,
the old woman at my death, who would that be if
I'm not? You? Please, you're nothing

than two eyes, that see what they see, you're
nothing more than the view: a shining sun,
an apple tree in bloom, a chair standing in 
the grass; joy, sorrow, what do you know,

view. But who will make my lover grey and sick,
make the dog howl, the child cry and death come?
Who will make the apple tree wither, leave the chair 
out forever in the rain? Somebody has to keep an eye
out to make sure that everything passes.