We are simple folk, old and tired.
We weep none, and sing much.
That’s all we have,
now that’s the truth.
Sit back, take a nap and be you called,
Our hearing is slight, our speech muffled,
Our sight dimmed by the cost of time.
Memory takes a back seat,
we try hard to be neat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem