Ode to Sorrow

To him, he was determined to win the world, but she seemed to be like the quicksand between his fingers and the youth on his temples that he couldn't hold on to. When the years passed and the white horse passed through the sleeves, he stood on the stage that he had agreed with her to compete with her. Her cold eyes were no longer beside him. He asked himself: Who is more important than a beautiful woman? There is no need to think about it, there is never any choice between the world and her!