Now old man`s talk o` the days behind me: My dater`s youngest darter to mind me; A little dream in ` , a little dyin`, A little lew corner of airth to lie in.

Critical age

Fearsome, awesome -
Too late to change ! -
You`ve come for me also,
My critical age !


No weakling am I,
Yet I don`t feel good.
On a Monday,
Am I heading right ?
On a Monday ?
Do I live as I should ?


I`ve lost my sleep,
On a Tuesday,
My appetite, too.
On a Tuesday.
I`m indebted to all,
But what can I do ?
On a Wednesday.


Like a stump on a meadow
Or a shadow on snow,
Or a gry rock showing
when tides are low...
On a Thursday.-


Whose heart have I softened,
To whom stretched a hand ?
On a Friday?
Whose pain did I soothe
Or at least understand ?
On a Friday.


Who did I bring joy
Or console in old age ?
To whom did I show
The one true way ?
On a Saturday.


I`m indebted to all,
Yet what can I do ?
I could help a lot,
But I`m helpless too.
On a Sunday morning...


From grief I`ve escaped,
I`ve escaped from ill health,
From very death,
But not from myself.
On all the week...