I fear that what I shall utter as a Young man
I will despise as an old man.
Perhaps, then, it is best to never grow old.
This, a voice in my heart sings to me.
If only I were able to define myself as a young man,
why then, then, him who will be old in me, shall not only be
the creation of a young man, but, shall become
the young-man himself! This, a voice in my heart sings to me.
I fear that the old man, the product of this young-man now old,
will forget the old-me in this new-me and fancy himself
as the end all be all of the many me’s within me. This,
the child in my heart sings to me.