I went down to Hythe
And sat down in my room,
Tried to think about how I'd survive,
And my heart jump into a gloom,
At first, I thought I had died
Feeling old, being so cold.
Instead, I stood there and cried,
Looking back over on life's road.
Although you may not hear me cry,
Since I am still here living
But someday I will depart and die.
Then you will understand why,
The tears shed on life's road,
Were the miseries of mine to dry?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem