O, were it just like the good old days
With the steep summits to be climbed
When the sun left a golden haze
When all of the melodies chimed
But now the peaks seem unattainable
The backdraft of the passing years sweeps by
The things strived for are unavailable
Is it worth just one more try?
For my mind abhors despair
My tongue still speaks words of hope
My lungs take in great gasps of air
And with my spirit elope
To tomorrows of unbounded joy
And the meaning of being me
To arrive at the safe and sacred place
Where all things are meant to be
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very well written. I can feel his words. And I want to read it again.