How long it’s been, ten years perhaps

How long it’s been, ten years perhaps,
Since I’ve passed by this street!
And yet I lived here for a time—
About two years, or three.

The street’s the same, there’s almost nothing new.
But if it could see me and comment,
It would say, “He’s the same, but how I’ve changed!”
Thus our souls remember and forget.

We pass by streets and by people,
We pass our own selves, and we end,
Then, on the blackboard, Mother Intelligence
Erases the symbol, and we start again.