Let me with slow steps,
Made slow
By the arrival of middle age,
Stroll
To the inviting arm of solitude.

Let me relinquish
To those coming behind,
This mantle of protest,
This mantle
Of rebuking of satan.

Let me rest
My quivering voice,
My aching joints,
My blurry eyes,
Let me in peace
Await
And welcome old age.

When I am ensconced
In the embrace of solitude,
My ears would be shielded
From the noise
Of this noisy space,
My eyes would only behold
The alluring features of solitude.