Of my lack of success i have no wish to lie
I am too old for loving and too young to die
The years have left me looking older and gray
And the clock on my life keeps on ticking away
Many decades ago when my hair was dark brown
As a younger man near a far away town
I often daydreamed of success but daydreams seldom come true
Suppose we receive from life what is only our due
Yet i hope to live on for as long as i can
And to die without pain as a very old man
And though eventually to the scythe of the Reaper i will fall
The great gift of life is the greatest gift of all
I may not have much money but i have no wish
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem