1. The locks of the almond tree have turned white
So rise, let us drink by the spring

2. I know that white hair, though seemly
Is yet the mark of old age

3. This youth is but white hair
A wonder, this union of opposites

4. The days will replace what they promised
And mar the truth of speech with guile

5. Or have you not learned that their way
Is to divide those once close?