when you are old and gray and full of sleep
and nodding by the fire, taking down this book,
and slowly reading, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once,and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
and hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
When you are old, white-headed and sleepy,
take a nap by the fire, please take down this poem,
read it slowly and recall the softness of your eyes in the past
recall their heavy shadows in the past;
How many people loved you when you were young
adore you's beauty was false or sincere,
Only one person loved your pilgrim soul,
loved the painful wrinkles of your old face.
Bend down by the glowing red fire,
Whisper mournfully, why did love die?
He walked slowly on the mountain overhead,
and buried his face among the stars.