The Last Toast
Whether we like it or not,
We have only three choices:
Yesterday, today and tomorrow.
And not even three
Because as the philosopher says
Yesterday is yesterday
It belongs to us only in memory:
From the rose already plucked
No more petals can be drawn.
The cards to play
Are only two:
The present and the future.
And there aren't even two
Because it's a known fact
The present doesn't exist
Except as it edges past
And is consumed...,
In the end
We are only left with tomorrow.
I raise my glass
To the day that never arrives.
But that is all
we have at our disposal.
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Comments about this poem (The Last Toast by Nicanor Parra )
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