Having lost the vigour to produce seeds,
Send out blossom and give out shoots and leaves,
With the stem turning senseless in due course,
A tree still feels the pulse of lust and life
With its roots being active to the earth.
Having lost the vigour to impregnate,
To keep counts and volume from falling,
With the stem losing its power in aging,
A man still feels the pulse of life and lust
With his thoughts responsive to women.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem