My umbrella is just my prop,
In case I wanna rest;
It gives an added wizened look,
Matching my age and zest.
My silver hair, frontal baldness
Make me alluring enough;
So girls don’t mind a man my age,
Who wears a smile, though rough.
I am a ‘happy-go-lucky type, ’
Who loves the pomp and hype;
The parties are a way to keep
My spirits high and peep!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem