To be old is to be mature, soft and ripe,
To be sure, supple, satiated and satisfied.
To be old is to be calm, quiet and content,
To be full of everything good, rich and enduring.
When the cat is away,
The mice rejoice and play.
Freedom to relax and to sleep,
Only play, no work please.
Our dear Lord in Heaven,
Listen to this prayer of mine.
My earnest plea, if not heard,
May shake my faith in the Divine.
Friends are many
But true friends are few
I treasure your friendship
As a true friend ought to do
Gods sit idly on the platform
on which they were stationed
No one in my family looks at them
They are there for the elders,
My children, you are all grown up,
And walk tall with ease and confidence.
I am and I was, as I was long before,
Change for me meant no change at all.
Five nights have passed since I saw you last,
And still the gloomy face haunts me,
Unresolved, the question weighs dully on me,
And I ask what all this really means.