An Ode To "All Things Old". Poem by Mou Mukherjee Das
An Ode To "All Things Old".
Old are the leaves of a tree,
that wither away-
Old are the flowers,
that bloom for a day.
Old is my wife,
who once shared my life-
Old are my children,
with whom I have dreamt.
Old is my home,
that houses its memories-forlorn-
Old are my clothes,
that have grown loose.
I now feel at ease
with "all things old"
only my soul is young,
with all stories told.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 10:27:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
