Dear, no matter how I look,
when my hair is turning grey,
and my face is growing wrinkles,
I am still the one you know.
no matter what I become,
my vision begins blurring,
my hearing begins losing,
I am still the one you know.
Dear, Please forget my fear,
although I know it's nature
and that I am getting old,
try to be the one you know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem