There are too many problems
To name or number them all
Often- they defy all definition
An ache in one place may mean a cause somewhere else
Old age is symphony of symptoms
But what plays is only the music of pain
It would be preferable to go out
Without the multiplicity of complications
But today I'll dream the latest hurt
Will go away by itself
If I somehow stop doing
Exactly what
I don't know
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Old age can't be described so well. A sensitive piece of writing.