What you love destroys you,
that is the old cliché,
It's so because the truth in it
is so obvious and plain.
Every morning I must break
rust off my joints with pain,
thirty-four years of skiing
has left me this price to pay.
What you love destroys you,
that's what the people say,
and yet I still get on up
and go do it anyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem