When I am old
I will not worry about the future
I will make each day count for more
I will stand proud and have no regret
I will strive to help the wandering poor
When I am old
I will extend my hand in friendship
I will smile when I walk down the street
I will guard the unnecessary words I speak
I will find some good in everyone I meet
Who am I kidding?
I am scared to death of what tomorrow brings
I sleep late and catch that afternoon nap
My back aches; I wish I had done this or that
Woe is me; I am the poor fellow doffing my cap
Who am I kidding?
My hand in friendship shakes like a leaf
When I smile I fear I will lose my teeth
I have earned the right to speak my mind
I must scurry along lest I be left behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem