I want to write my own English poem, which is about fourteen lines.

when you are old

When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy.

Take a nap by the fire, take down this book,

Reading slowly, dreaming of the gentle eyes.

Your eyes were once, and their shadows were deep;

How many people love your happy and elegant moments,

Love your beauty with false or true love;

But there is one person who loves your pilgrim soul,

Love the sadness on your aging face;

Bend down by the glowing fireplace,

Whispering a little sadly, how love dies.

Pacing on the mountains overhead,

Hide his face among the stars.

When you are old (Ye Zhi)

When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy,

Take a nap by the fire, please write down this poem.

Read slowly and recall the tenderness of your eyes in the past.

Recall the heavy shadows of their past;

How many people love you when you are young and happy?

Worship your beauty out of hypocrisy or sincerity,

Only one person loves your pilgrim soul,

Love the painful wrinkles of your old face.

Bend down by the red flame,

Whispering sadly, why does love die,

On the mountain overhead, it walked slowly.

Hide your face among the stars.

Birds sing when things change.

Author: [America] Robert Pan Warren

It's just that birds sing at night, and I can't recognize what it is.

When I came back from spring and walked through the rock pasture,

I stood quietly, and the sky above me was as quiet as the sky in a bucket.

How many years have passed, how many places have lost face, and some people have passed away.

And I stood in the distance, the night was so quiet, I finally decided.

What I miss most is not what will eventually disappear.

It's the silence when birds sing.

Ornithology in a Changing World

This is just a bird call at night, which has not been confirmed.

When I came from the spring with water and crossed the rocky back pasture;

But I stood so quiet that the sky above me was no quieter than the sky in the bucket.

As time goes by, all places and faces will fade, and some people have died.

I'm standing on a distant land, and the night is still the same. I'm finally sure.

I miss the serenity of birdsong more than some things that will fail later.

Robert penn warren (1905— 1989) was the first American poet laureate. As one of the representatives of the early "New Criticism", his poetic style changed greatly in his later years. He was called "our most outstanding writer" and "the most important American poet in the second half of the twentieth century" by critics.