These days the spring in my walk is not there,
Missing too is my willingness to venture outdoors;
A strange lethargy has set in.
I have no desire to exert but to sit outside the door,
And quietly watch people move about engaged in work;
What else can I do without affecting others?
No purpose would it serve if I were to recall those days when I
Ran a mile race under five and reclined on the green grass
Only to sip a glass full of lemonade.
No purpose would serve if I were to tell that I am ageing rapidly,
My systems are failing, and I know no way to keep a check.
My body and mind will slowly deteriorate.
Am I supposed to see my body decay? Why should I watch?
Why wasn't I forewarned? Someone has to take the blame.
This omission affects me.
I shall not rejoice in the knowledge of being freed from Death;
I have never feared Death only because it stalks me all the time,
Who will guarantee I will not be reborn?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem