The old familiar walk
We took again today
Down the hill, across the road
By terraces built to stay;
The long, slim gardens we admire
Although now wintery and forlorn
But renewed when Summer comes
With bright border and trim lawn;
You have learned to walk steadlly
Along the low brick wall
Finding your feet, as in life
Growng up, now not so small;
At the end I lift you down
Afraid of stumbles and trips
Then past the prickly hedgerow
Where we collect rose hips;
Now we race on separate paths
Your new shoes clatter and din
At the finishing line you stand triumphant
Not knowing I let you win;
There will come a time, of course
When my defeat will not be feigned
When your feet are swifter than mine
With all my energy drained;
We dance through the underpass
Our voices echo and amplify
Where the rainstorms cannot reach
Or wet clothes undignify;
The end of our trail is reached
And we take a kindly look
At a building of which we are fond
With its row on row of books;
Will all that we see now be gone
When a hundred years have passed?
Our footsteps just fade away
Because nothing can ever last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem