A man doesn't have time in his life br to have time for everything. br He doesn't have seasons enough to have br a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes br Was wrong about that. br br A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment, br to laugh and cry with the same eyes, br with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them, br to make love in war and war in love. br And to hate and forgive and remember and forget, br to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest br what history br takes years and years to do. br br A man doesn't have time. br When he loses he seeks, when he finds br he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves br he begins to forget. br br And his soul is seasoned, his soul br is very professional. br Only his body remains forever br an amateur. It tries and it misses, br gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing, br drunk and blind in its pleasures br and its pains. br br He will die as figs die in autumn, br Shriveled and full of himself and sweet, br the leaves growing dry on the ground, br the bare branches pointing to the place br where there's time for everything.