Oranges and grapes refuse to grow in the cold.
Today I sing and dance, refuse to grow old.
Yet all the same, time is tyrant and ruthless,
Unfolds my wrinkling years, it is relentless.
Now and then the lots seem to be gentle and kind,
But alloyed with fate the somnambulist is blind.
Luck and fortuity might act as a soubrette,
Life spins our fate like roulette in a film set.
Still, let us drink to life, celebrate, and be glad,