If you’ve done life right
you do not feel or even
see the years coming
until they have long passed.
One day you look down
and see the hands
of an older man:
gnarled, blunt, corded
with venular ropes of age.
The lines on the face
in the mirror seem
as if they have been there
always.
Now you understand
how far the distance
from the start actually is.
The body has not yet betrayed,
but it’s well on its way,
and you know that
the fight has begun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is beautiful and introspective, relevant and very honest. 10++++