The tanks of time
In Youth
Ah! in Youth we care not
For in the mists of beauty are they masked
But still trudge, trudge, trudge
Trudge all the same:
Yet
In ripening of age and years
Clear the mists of beauty that were masks
And peeled the vision, the tanks of time
Reveals
Trudging, trudging, trudging ruthlessly,
With the ruthless turns of the wheels of time
Without a pity, and without a wait
Trudging, trudging, trudging ruthlessly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem