He stretched himself and anon prostrate lay.
Cold thoughts training across his bland mind:
A long-ago chum to excess distant labors lost,
Others whose tales you on dusty epitaphs find.
He bit his reddening lip and then began to rue.
He did not know what becomes of me and you
Once silver cords break and dear warmth flies...
What occurs once that alert inner jumper dies.
He gazed at his highschool photos and sighed...
The extinct times had sadly forever flown away,
Chubby cheeks had diffused into a weaker mien;
He missed the boyish cheer of his brighter day.
His old lovers and old garments didn't fit.
They brought ruing thoughts black like pit,
And elastic nightmares like rubber drawn,
Of a garment thrill and sweet lovers gone.
He did not comprehend the menace of such days,
That had usurped all his erstwhile joys and grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem