William Shakespeare. Macbeth (№ 376476)

We days days whisper: "Tomorrow, tomorrow".
So quiet steps life creeps
To the last unfinished page.
It turns out that all of yesterday
We are back to light the way to the grave.
The end of the end, the candle burnt out!
(So in each case. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
And the days crawl, and that's really in the book of life
We read the last syllable and see
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way
To dusty death. Donlevy, brief candle!)
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, Out, brief candle!