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ENGLISH PROSE TRANSLATION

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Nimble old man, you who steadily cut through the thin air on tireless wings, and, without striking sail, always cruise before the wind, outpacing all of us; arch-enemy of rest, active day and night; irretrievable time, whose fierce hunger greedily swallows, devours and consumes everything that looks strong, and who topples, turns and destroys entire nations and kingdoms; - you who are too fast for everyone, how come you appear so slow to me? My love, ever since you went away I try without any joy to get time, which is dragging its feet, to move on, and I toil laboriously through the long day until evening; your absence is so distressing. And my longing for you cannot move the God of Time. But it seems longing derives its name from this: by longing for you I make the time, which I wish were shorter, so much longer.