Oh my dearest time, for have you again flee'st by my grasping hands,
And for hath thou bestowed the drought of harvest to my very lands,
And yet for time has bree'st the misfortunes to me for years and years,
For He has deemed that sorrows comes not in singles but in greater pairs.

For in 'tis new year, shall, to the past, I give my wholesome regards,
And wish'st for the fortunate endings that time fiercely guards.

So to 'tis new year shall false vows light false determinations a'flame,
As a fragment of time shall such drive live, for inevitably 'tis fire a'tamed.
But shall'st these very happenings of the past year come'st to share.
Until thee walk'st the identical path down 'tis very next year.