My bed is nice and warm, the morning is so cold.
My blood is so thin, the years have past...Im old.
To get up from this bed, aches and pains await me!
Is there nothing in this world worth getting up for?
To placate me?
The years I look back on with wonder, where have they gone?
What have I made of my life all along?
Have I time to put things right?
It's so much easier to stay here.
Out of sight!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem