Chapter 2 when you are old

when you are old When you are old and gray-haired and sleepy, Dozing before the fire, take down this book of psalms, Recite slowly, dreaming of your eyes That soft light and blue shadow; How many people are true and false, have loved your beauty, Loved your joyful and charming youth, There is only one who loves your pilgrim's heart, Love the sorrow on your withered face; When you hunched over the hot grate, You will speak softly, with a touch of sadness: Lost love, now on the mountain, Bury its blushes in dense clusters of stars. (Translated by Fei Bai)