S óvj, mitől bölcs lesz az öreg,
Kit mindenki dicsér;
Lássanak csak bolondnak, hisz’
A dal ennyit megér?
Szavam már nincsen, ajkam
Újra néma imát mond --
Hogy maradjak, míg csak élek,
Egy szenvedélyes bolond.
![](https://scontent.fbud4-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/69662717_2680194352015243_845581143917985792_n.jpg?_nc_cat=108&_nc_oc=AQnGnQR15g6cDrbuAZow2QvYCIRrPoSsp1blmm_rKVAV4S9XTzaBKN3vSE7pjcy1t7fc2rKYb-g4Yaq8sg1msQjs&_nc_ht=scontent.fbud4-1.fna&oh=10e3e52b878035d43113951d1676805a&oe=5E0E2DF5)
A Prayer for Old Age
God guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone;
From all that makes a wise old man
That can be praised of all;
O what am I that I should not seem
For the song's sake a fool?
I pray -- for word is out
And prayer comes round again --
That I may seem, though I die old,
A foolish, passionate man.