By Mory Keita
When
ye shall grow old from old ages,
In
thirty falling seasons of leafy days,
Ye
shall not be whom ye desire,
Under
leaves yer soul shall grow old too:
In
summer ye shall walk under falling leaves,
Seeking
yer old self under breezy winds,
But
ye shall not find muse in its beauty,
For
yer summer days shall grow old too.
In
winter ye shall walk under falling snow,
Ye
shall be alone in cold days in a coat,
Alas!
cold shall whelm yer endurance,
For
yer bones shall grow old of old days.
Beware
of old ages, live yer youth in warmth,
For
ye shall never live these days once more.
Carpe Diem (Revisited)