There's a road that every fair lass sees,
Well-lined with buck and wending shine.
A thoroughfare by common lack unsoiled,
A street that runs into all grand things fine.
There is a lane that every simple-thinking lad
Loves to tread with intents either good or bad,
That route where sums are simpler than math,
Where friends are one in both mirth and wrath.
A fully universalized epicene way there is,
Where unfolding youths in concert file on
Into human conglomerations far and wide,
Where old virtue and trust are forever gone.
Thus there exists a rather vast region beyond
Every heat-seared sand and water-filled pond,
Wherein wisdom and sense yet have their day,
Where original fates of all mankind intact stay.
And there's a sure but bitter path that for fate's sake,
Every old man and woman must by all means take.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem