The wandering badger asked in a husky voice:
How am I to know?
As far as I’m concerned
I might as well dash across the moor
than to sit here grinning at time.
While slipping into obscurity
the lynx replied:
Time has its own entrance.

A hawk spotted the circumstances:
How time flies!
We’re in a state of being
and infinity is within a stone's throw
so why bother?
But the beaver squeaked:
Haven’t you forgot that the ravages of time
has been transformed into sand?

Suddenly a perch quivered and quaked:
You’ve all been fooled by the hourglass.
Who’ll be left to tell the history of the sea
if the grains of sand just keep swirling around
and mankind has lapsed into stupidity?
Yes, we don’t want to be part
of a collected oblivion, a seal cried out:
And our entrance is not shrouded in mystery.

A polarbear overheard the discussion and said:
You’ve constantly been occupied with this entrance stuff.
Our time is soon up and I’m losing my appetite
so let’s face it; the horizons are melting
and you will not see the likes of us again
To be quite frank; mankind will be remembered as
a line of passing ghosts
and their withdrawal will be our hope.