Tell me ye old man
of white hair and stick in hand
What words from thy graceful mouth
to be said about a young lost his mind
Nay for sickness, nay for illness
but for a lass that has no kind
Give me some of thy wisdom of old
and enlighten my heart in its jail
What ye have to say about a queen
who captured me and she's in my jail
But never tell to break up the bound
for for sure it is to fail
Listen to me ye old man and hear
my complaints and don't leave apart
Some times I do really wonder
when the sky shine up with what it had
In this life who is really younger old man
is it you or me, in soul and heart?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem