It's too early for me
to bid the world farewell-
I still have tales too many
yet to share and tell-
the leaves they silently quiver
in the storm-stressed tree
as over my old age I hover
never weary but always free
new lands to discover
beyond Ulysses's furthest sea
I will brave the harshest water
in my endurance and tranquillity-
It's too early for me
to write my obituary
my last song sung from memory
shall be my humble epiphany
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem