He's an oldman
a truely wise man
whose ision rolls
the years like a dice
that brught him grace,
his white grey beard
and his cloan- clothy pet
as white as a snow
curtails more hope,
even when in pain
and certainly the rain
fades away his smile
and his mind full of light
conqured must minds,
and his continued fight
win all baits
and yeild him crown
and made him king
his words were gold
even what he told
the world care for his mould
which lights the way for all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem