Know'st thou what gray Methuselah
Pronounced when parting with this life?
Man's born a slave,
He dies a slave,
And death will never tell him why
He walked this lovely vale of tears,
Suffered, wept, endured, and disappeared.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem which the the older, meditative person can fully relate to.I especially like his 2nd last line about the lovely vale of tears. Deep!