Nearly all of them are quite the treat
For they take us from melodies
To right down the street.
Those memories are primed-
Delicious they are-
The tastes are of yesterdays
And their sheltering stars.
It calls to mind
that unquestionable trope
'The best of the world
is its brim full of hope.'
As so the worst is also-
gathering age
when we're bent-
that very same hope
no longer extant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem