When I was ten and seven, yet younger
I thought life was just a bed of roses
For all I desired I had many a thousand poses
And never did I thirst nor hunger
Nor did I lack enough to desire a thing
But all I dreamt of, I heard before sunset
-the singing Nightingale, and the fish in the net
-the sweetness and songs the seasons bring
Now that I`m ten and eight, much older
And all that life`s fancy once at my disposal
All of it were but a calling carnival
For now they say: there`s the hearth, go tinder!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem