If seventy calls me soon
I will end my bitter, gloomy life
I have grown old, my cane is long
And my steps have become a cross from my weight
My tongue has tasted nothing but medicine
A male doctor bends, a female doctor comes
It is a shame that my years should be my enemy
It is a shame that my hair should see gray
I wrote poetry until it drove me mad
Eyes I thought were like me, poets
They turned their backs on love deliberately
And the heart yearned for the beloved
I live my life weary of my state
A stranger who lived in a strange world
**
