1. You sent children's books as a gift from you,

    So the days of youth returned to me, though I am middle-aged.

  2. Pages you wrote for the little child,

    So the child might draw a man's strength from them.

  3. Oh, would that I were the child whom you guide,

    Then I would experience what he experiences and read what he reads.

  4. And oh, would that my bygone days might return,

    And in them the bitter and the sweet would be alike.

  5. And there is no good in my yesterday, my today, or tomorrow;

    And I am not suited to the world, nor is it suited to me.

  6. And if fathers vie for distinction through the offspring around them,

    Then my superiority to fathers is that I have no offspring.

  7. And by fate I am at the worst of levels,

    So my life there has neither an after nor a before.

Sol 6.1