I'm growing old
but it's not the prompting
that I've morphed
into a non-being

didn't you read
my writing
or hear
my singing?

Didn't you find me
in the village-dancing?
Didn't you feel
my pulse in fullest rushing?

Yes, I'm old-growing
but in my heart spring is still abiding
when into the night-sky I'm gazing
I can't stop my romancing.