Out in the cold and necked winters shreds
Without clothes or close
Famine lingers long denies us of bread
Often the dreary dark and hell is let lose
You wonder how near is help
Or aid to a pending doom
To clear the smoking cloud up
Return us back to our land and kingdom
Where milk and honey flows
Unlike this desolate troy
Of shame and shows
Its all our dreamland joy
But what is life
Tenderly natural at one three and four
Wonderfully and beautifully admired at seven and sixteen
Arrogant and ambitious at seventeen and nineteen
Self centered at twenty and thoughtful at thirty two
Make hay i say make hay
Because your sun may fail at forty
The faster it goes the narrow the way
Life has no photocopy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem