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With age, sight becomes blurred for what is near,
The distant sounds fade slowly,
The nights grow shorter, the sleep is more luxurious,
And the footsteps become a little calmer.
But an inner rebirth also arises,
A loving self with greater devotion,
Regrets lose their rigor,
And we long for bliss without guilt or reproof.
With the years, one chooses one's companions,
Only the loyal and sincere remain,
We no longer seek vain philosophies,
Nor advice that we once required so much.
Whoever does not greet, it is better not to reciprocate,
With fools it would not be worth the confrontation,
We have only one life to live this time,
Why not live it without fear or sorrow?