I came across an ancient manuscript
Long languishing in a cluttered drawer
Where hidden memories lay among
The flotsam and jetsam of my life,
And reading it I realized a forgotten time
When idealism was a guiding principle
In my way of life, when in my naivete
I was convinced I could change the world.
I had taken many bits of my life from that chest
From time to time, when frantic searching
For direction caused me to flail about
Too late, I picked up the yellowed pages just now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just because the pages are yellow, that shouldn't stop a determined fellow!