Youth my lover is too fond of me and children
Of my own health and kind, their kindness outweighs.
Youth is my lover, young ties spiritually decline
The matrimonial tasks, and clamber on the ladders.
Young hearts disturb the older men and ladies
Who question ill-health due to clumsiness and size.
My young headaches portray a picture of my astute
Well-being, the being of the thrown kindness.
Yet the old reign is upon the man who died young,
The kingdom of this world is older than trees of sand.
Sad seeds sublimely murmur to lately fly with elbows
Tonight, the nights are nuggets of the horizon.
The old knight bellows a strange warm secret to state,
If it leans to the fore we distinctly swarm on the bees
That swarm on the people to find their fed-up fodder,
Honey has given youth a final passage to the man who died.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A final passage! With the muse of life. Nice work.