Up he the spiral stairs did climb,
With extravagant air of grace,
Not knowing that the face of time,
Steadily crept upon his face;
With every step since his old prime,
Age was leaving a lasting trace:
A dagger of a form sublime,
Tearing his life’s delicate lace;
Oblivious of the warning chime,
He climbed densely to empty space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem