The village lies unchanged like an ancient peaceful sleeper
though perhaps this year the hills seem a little steeper
and I know with the usage my legs will get stronger
but my exploring walks seem to take a little bit longer.
The vines march up the slopes, almost touchingly near
but in my heart I know I'll not help picking them this year.
I sit in the night with those dear friends of mine
enjoying the chat and the sweet Mosel wine.
And I want every moment seared in my brain
because just maybe I'll not be here again,
for that long road of life which seemed to extend
on and on forever now seems to have an end.
So I start to look at things through very different eyes
as I enjoy my village under warm Mosel skies
while the river, as ever, rolls on and on and on its way
supremely unaware of one man and his short stay.