All will go by, like small cotton smoke. I don't know regret; I don't weep.
I'll no longer be young because I'll be coated in fading gold.
You won't be able to beat as hard as before.
The chill has left an impression on my heart.
And in the aromatic cedar chintz land,
You would not be enticed to do the normal things you used to.
A wandering spirit! You are becoming less and less frequent.
Activate the mouth's fire.
Oh, my vanished youth, a revolt of eyes and stream of emotions!
Now I'm more stingy about my wants, My life, or did you have a fantasy about me?
As if I were riding a pink horse in the early spring.
Copper is softly dripping from the maple leaves, reminding us that we are all perishable in this world.
That came to grow and die; may you be blessed forever.
This is @benie111
Your contribution is welcomed always.
Buen poema amigo.
!discovery 15
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