That my nerves, cool is misery
That my knees, not as youth
That my face as ploughed land
Though
A brain as sharp as razor
My heart as a blossoming flower
Your wrinkled face so tender
Yester-sunsets
Your voice still as a songbird
Lifts up my soul
Sing
Pick me up my dear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aging gracefully is my title for it...I love it as it is though. Good work.