The old man sat in his motorized chair
in a room filled with shadow and light.
His bored health attendant cared for him there
as he made his descent into night.
He longed to remember the smell of her hair,
His Muse who had brought him such pleasure.
To escape, for a moment, the dull aching pain
Of the cancer that was taking his measure.
He longed to return to that day long ago,
They made love in the warm summer rain.
Yet how could he summon the Muse of his youth
When he couldn’t remember her name?
Would his kindly Physician take pity on him-,
the old man in his motorized chair?
Would he increase the drip until his heart stilled?
When he died would she be with him there?
He had failed to appreciate, when young and strong,
the pitiless tempo of Time.
He couldn’t remember the words of their song,
to descant at the end of the line.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem