I watch my Mentor weep
His hooded eyes fight the urge to sleep;
And yet they question him
To make him speak;
They chide him, as he hobbles weak.
Once his voice was clear and strong
He bristled at the slightest wrong;
He ruled a King firm upon his throne;
He whispers now, he grunts, he groans.
I know it' s hard to accept
That this once keen mind is not so adept; ;
Now his dancing thoughts are out of step,
He struggles as if he's out of breath
Allow this old giant his repose;
As he shrinks take in his clothes;
Trim his nails and clip his toes
His weakness should not be so exposed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem