1. I've grown old at fifty-five, no longer desirous,
Youth has departed, the glances of girls now shun me.

2. When the fair ones see me, they turn aside,
Though once I arose, and their glances followed me.

3. The singers have not wronged me by their disdain,
Though their laws may ordain what I think distorted.

4. Lift your eyes to the mirror, and if the white
In your hair tells you that youth has deserted;

5. The eyes that once admired their own pretty face,
Should welcome disdain from all others with modesty.