From Derjavin
The Stream of Time
The stream of time, with onward sweep,
Bears off men’s works, all human things,
And plunges o’er Oblivion’s steep
Peoples and kingdoms with their kings.
If for a space amidst the swirl
The lyre or trumpet some sustain,
They’re swept at last in ceaseless whirl,
And none escape Fate’s common main.