Life now Is just A B C D The voice of heart is in vowel’s harmony; After missing the past in the crowd of time, There find I, no meaning of “greater or less or equals to”; That’s, to my ears, The eighth solfege syllable in symphony. Now trained, my brain To add and subtract in mind, No need of Math.s-table is there; The past runs after me, Do not know why. She waves her hand and tells, To stop for a moment, she yells; Do not know what that bible is, But the moment our eyes meet, It reminds me of those fables, The last-night-half-read novel, My fairy tales And my mutilated multi-tables. Here cometh a seventh season of no time, It passes like others, Leaves behind a souvenir then; The Arithmetic of life doesn’t end here, I try to forget the past, One, two, three, four, Many times, but in vein. Times back, In my handwriting notes All those corrections, Crosses and tick marks, And the lines of rules measure; All those seem the same to my eyes: past. And I ask: Is the past, to heart, so closer? To my interrogation, Smiles and replies she, Come back in time, Will tell once you meet me.