Now that I am old and grey,
I don't fear anything any more.
Passing time and dimming hours,
breathe freshness into my lungs.
One deaf ear sticks out,
the other hardly listens.
It's a blessing getting old
and seeing the error of past ways.
Too much reason at my fingertips.
I dream of summer holidays and
exciting times in foreign cities:
Hong Kong, Taipei - I've been there, you know.
But really, it is just a dull ache
of a journey never taken.
It's a slow walk down the Chemists now,
for brylcream and hairdye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's a nice poem, , , and written well