We heard it said repeatedly,
in adage olden and far-flung,
through springs misspent too heatedly,
that youth is wasted on the young.
Our ‘salad days' of judgment green
found life a song to still be sung,
a wanton time when slate seemed clean.
Ah, youth is wasted on the young.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem