How shall you think of me when I'm old
and wrinkles form on my brow?
Shall you think to yourself she's lost her charm
to the years she's lost somehow?
Will you forget how I rumpled up your hair
then smoothed it once again?
Will you not remember my light-hearted step
and the smoothness of my hand?
Will these things be remembered in the night
when the quiet of the years are here
While outside in the frolic of younger ones
we wipe away a tear?
Longing is still within the heart
but to act on it is memory.
And even that is failing now.
But still I ask can you remember me?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem