Now they who are no more nor ever shall be,
In the yellowing pages of a notebook,
in old letters faded by time and dust,
I rediscover them, those friends of mine.
Some live in verses written years ago,
Others in tales that never saw the light,
Others on the back of a photograph
On the program for a play now long forgotten.
I see their faces, hear their voices laugh,
Recall the words they said and the way they looked,
And feel a pang as if a knife had pierced
My inmost heart, and yet it is pure joy
To meet them once again in memory,
As though they were not gone, but simply far.
Now they who are no more, now they who lie
In distant places under distant skies,
Come back to life, return for one brief moment,
And I am once again with my old friends.