Over the past three years, Bambi had at least one post annually devoted to the perception or meaning of time, as you can see further below.
Today, with much gratitude, she is honoured to share an inspiring, beautiful poem by Dr. Chawki Hitti. She hopes that you will enjoy reading his original French text or its English translation following it, thanks to her genuinely loyal friend, Mr. Google Translate.
Regardless of your own time perception or attitude, life stage, or where you are at in the transition of time, may you all be well, dear readers, living fully in the present moment.
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“Titre: Je suis le Temps (par le Dr. Chawki Hitti)
Le temps n’existe pas, c’est moi le temps,
Je suis l’écho, je suis le battement.
Le temps ne passe pas, c’est moi qui m’efface,
C’est moi qui marche, c’est moi qui me lasse.
Je traverse les heures comme on traverse un pont,
Mais les heures ne sont que des noms que je donne.
Je suis la rivière et le courant,
Le sablier sans sable, l’horloge sans cadran.
Le temps n’est pas un fleuve, il n’a pas de source,
C’est moi qui dessine sa propre course.
Le passé n’est qu’un souvenir que je visite,
Le futur, un mirage que mon esprit suscite.
Je suis l’instant, je suis le frisson,
Je suis l’aube, le crépuscule et le sillon.
Ce n’est pas le temps qui me pousse en avant,
C’est mon souffle qui crée le mouvement.
Le temps ne vieillit pas, c’est moi qui change,
C’est mon visage que l’espace dérange.
Les rides ne sont pas des traces du temps,
Elles sont des chemins où j’ai marché longtemps.
Je suis le peintre, je suis la toile,
Je suis la flamme, je suis l’étoile.
Il n’y a pas de temps, il n’y a que moi,
Un voyageur qui s’invente des lois.
Le temps ne fuit pas, il ne s’effondre pas,
C’est moi qui coule entre mes propres pas.
Quand je m’arrêterai, le temps cessera,
Car le temps, c’est moi. Rien d’autre que ça”.
—
“Title: I Am Time (by Dr. Chawki Hitti)
Time does not exist, I am time.
I am the echo, I am the beat.
Time does not pass, it is I who fade away.
It is I who walk, it is I who tire.
I cross the hours as one crosses a bridge.
But the hours are only names I give.
I am the river and the current.
The hourglass without sand, the clock without a dial.
Time is not a river, it has no source.
It is I who draw its own course.
The past is only a memory I visit.
The future is a mirage my mind conjures up.
I am the moment, I am the shiver.
I am the dawn, the dusk, and the furrow.
It is not time that pushes me forward.
It is my breath that creates movement.
Time doesn’t age, it’s me who changes,
It’s my face that space disturbs.
Wrinkles are not traces of time,
They are paths I’ve walked for a long time.
I am the painter, I am the canvas,
I am the flame, I am the star.
There is no time, there is only me,
A traveler who invents laws for himself.
Time doesn’t flee, it doesn’t collapse,
It’s me who flows between my own steps.
When I stop, time will cease,
For time is me. Nothing other than that”.
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