Here I am almost 65.
In some ways only half alive.
Last week is just a blur;
A lot of memories never were.
Most movements have slowed down,
Though urinary tract has rebound.
My colon is much more rude;
No greasy, spicy… tasty food.
As I gaze in the mirror, I sadly see
A strange, old man squinting back at me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem