I read on a poem on a wintery day
Some kind of soham:
Nothing gold can stay.
And even this saying might be much true,
So much is staying
That is golden too.
So much you can't touch,
So much you can't see,
So much of you
Forever in me.
For Time can take,
And Time can break,
Things we've touched
And things we've seen
But Time, Valensa,
My love of Provença,
Can nothing do to what we have been.