Youth and age

Youth, I hold you so dear!

Age comes like a thief,

taking the roses' colors and fragrance,

The little bird her flight in the air,

Trees and vines their juice,

and the man his strength.

Youth, I cherish you!

Age, stay you distant,

do not breathe on the maiden's curls,

ah, what has happened to your cheeks?

Can you not dance and sing,

do you wish to still the sound of voices?

Youth, I plead with you,

make me a sorceress!

If the cheeks' ruddiness does not grow youthful,

at least do not weaken the vigor of these feet;

save this soul from age's cunning,

that I may praise you as the beauty you are.