When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I got to school to youth to learn the future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem. learning things can be such a treat or it can put you through misery.It is all how it is or how you take it as.take care.Or it can be in the middle nice and smoothe