When we were young
Beneath the sun
Nothing was what it seemed,
The seasons changed-
And so did we-
As did our nightmares
and all our dreams.
Although today I'm still spry-
I don't deny-
I've foolishness to forget,
And I know one day-
which will come too soon-
Dear Autumn shall then collect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem