Will you lend me your hand,
When I’ll be old and alone, my best friend?
My kids might turn their backs and move afar,
My vitality and strength will leave me in a war.
A war that I’ll wage against my age,
A battle to be fought between my will to live and the dearth of breath.
Friend, when I’ll turn despondent and low,
Will you walk with me through the life and teach me to go with the flow?
Even after those years of queer silence that enveloped our cordial relationship,
Will you accompany me to tread along the meadows reviving our companionship?