I can scarcely tell the character of youth,
Nature is young with fruit, it ripens many times;
Full of fever, young men and women define
The basis for their lives, the ones that value us.
Judgment is infinitely better when minds are sane,
You can plod for hours working miracles,
But youth shall never arrive, forming tennis and sport.
Isn’t the face so wild with glory?
Isn’t the old age with us?
What is more than youth when charity bellows?
My young trance travels to dislike the danger
Attributed to life as we perceive it,
The data corrupts on the mind, it fails.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem