1. The madness of youth and of jet-black hair and the prime of life,
When not immoderate, but still untamed, is but folly.

2. Why blame the frosts of Time? For I have gained
In wisdom what I've lost in locks of hair.

3. If talking is but loosely frivolous,
We eat the tasty trifles that we talk.

4. And when we toyed with necklaces of pleasure
And sent our little ones to gather fruit,

5. Then shared the loot we reaped with kith and kin,
Till all their hunger pangs were satisfied.

6. A trusted friend who does not spread his secrets,
Keeps fast the trust vouchsafed as was his duty.

7. A comrade, when we meet, whose soul is frozen
Lest talk spills forth to shame a trusted crony.