The old friends are older and less happy
They all have problems
They know can only get worse
They can pretend sometimes at the same kind of pleasures
But much has diminished and much has been lost
The old friends are older and less happy
Where is our spontaneous joy?
And the laughter that came with ease and lightness?
We go on as best we can
We try
We smile and say positive things
And then have sudden angry outbursts
The old friends are older and less happy
They know now for certain
They are going to die
But between now and then
A thousand scenarios of disability
Play in our minds
As anxiety and fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A kind of optimism if we look closely.++10