Entretien dans un parc T.S. Eliot

Was it a morning or an afternoon
That has such things to answer for!]
We walked along, under the April trees,
With their uncertainties
Struggling intention that becomes intense.    
I wonder if it is too late or soon
For the resolution that our lives demand.
With a sudden vision of incompetence
I seize her hand In silence and we walk on as before.    

And apparently the world has not been changed;
Nothing has happened that demands revision.
She smiles, as if, perhaps, surprised to see
So little her composure disarranged:
It is not that life has taken a new decision—  
It has simply happened so to her and me.

And yet this while we have not spoken a word
It becomes at last a bit ridiculous
And irritating.
All the scene’s absurd!
She and myself and what has come to us    
And what we feel, or not;
And my exasperation.
Round and round, as in a bubbling pot That will not cool
Simmering upon the fire, piping hot
Upon the fire of ridicule.