What to do with memories that have already started to fade, and tears that leave no stain?

Such a brevity, I had no time to take hold;
I leave the land my feet will never again tread,
and now remains a grief I know not how to carry

Yet it will fade from view, I know this much.

For the horizon is already moving, the sky already changing,

And this - all this:

It will become more than a distant memory; the faces I will forget, the moments will slip away, and these hours; a grain of sand quietly disappearing beneath the ones still to come

It is true, my farewell, although slow, is already here and what remains a grief I know not how to carry