I've many pages yet to be turned
And each of these pages
I've lived-
so I've earned.
One thinks that the older one gets
the more of his life is shot,
But the older I get,
The more of these leaves that I have-
of the pages in the leaves that I've got.
For I see my life's work in memories-
not in the passed times
in the leaves that I've sown,
For no matter how wrinkled
or be-withered my life
now is-
A rose is a rose is a rose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem