an old man sits on a bench
and looks out at the green lake
he thinks in the past tense
of all that was and is no more
in spring he remembers winter
a cold wind occupies his mind
in summer he recalls the spring
the sweet aroma of wildflowers
in the silence he hears an echo
a small boy playing in the park
he carries a thousand memories
and hums a time worn melody
an old man sits beside the lake
and quietly looks back on his life
for a moment his withered hands
remind him of all they once held
On the matter it was Cavafis first in modern times who wrote an excellent poem.Mine ''At lucky to grasp'' in the same tone.Nicely pictured.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a...m...a...z...i...n...g