There will come Death, and will have your eyes –
Death that stays with us from morning till evening, sleepless,
Deaf, like an old regret,
Or an absurd vice. Your eyes will be
A pointless word,
A silent cry, something untold.
Thus you see them every morning
When you lean over yourself, alone,
In the mirror. Dear hope,
That day we will also know
That you are life, and you are nothingness.
For everybody death has a face.
There will come death, and will have your eyes.
It will be like giving up a bad habit,
Like seeing a dead face
Reappear in the mirror,
Like listening to closed lips.
We will descend into the maelstrom without a word.
C. Pavese (1950)