Setting in the shade,
Sipping lemonade,
Watching the people,
In the passing parade.
Worn with age,
Bitter with rage,
Like an old book,
With a torn page.
First the Nurse,
and then the hearse,
As they pass...
From bad to worst...
This is my farewell,
To the Golden years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem