Towards me a wheel-chair crawled slow
with the skeleton of a man,
the leftover of a noble life.
His skull made a grotesque smile
and from his sunken eyes soon flashed
the light of familiarity.
His lips trembled to a wry smile,
The skin on his dry face tightened;
I'm shocked, like a meeting in tomb.
I would not have him recognized
But for his son, my former student,
Who pushed cautiously the wheel-chair.
There was a time, I thought of longevity
As the greatest blessing for man
Until I met this Tithonus!
Isn't it always better to die
When healthy you're in mind and body,
That friends can recognize you easily?
September,2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Too live you've lived before and you have died A hundred deaths you've lived each life. Great poem love these kind of reads.