In spring, I met the Autumn Man,
He sweetly smiled and took my hand.
He looked at me and softly said,
And now my son it's time for bed.
He led me to an open grave,
And said I'd reached the end of days.
That's not for me! My times not through!
For I have so much more to do.
I will not go! I'll smash your face!
You cannot put me in that place.
If I could, but live, a year or so,
Perhaps I'd be content to go.
Oh woe is me! This is not fair!
But why, oh why, should I even care?
All right, I'm ready, seal my fate.
I'll bravely face St. Peter's gate.
The Autumn Man, he cocked an ear.
He heard a voice, I could not hear.
He looked at me and asked me quick,
If my name was Cecil Frick.
I told him NO! I'm not that man!
I'm Sean Fitzgerald James McCann!
He begged forgiveness and he left,
Me standing there all by myself,
Beside that cold and lonely grave.
My life's been different from that day.
I live each day like it's my last,
For death will come and come too fast!
I live each day, the best I can,
In spring, I met the Autumn Man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your words just took the emotions of a reader and a writer! Nice Job ;)