Who had thrown all those rustic attires,
Now worn by these old miss and master,
Who have dry cleaned all those silvery flowers,
Now worn by these young miss and mister,
Who have abandoned all those petty toys,
Now picked by all these infants and toddlers
Who have lost their age to remain with memoirs,
Now edited and reedited to be the perfect travelers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem