I roast in the sun, old wretch... <br />I lie, and yawn, I stretch. <br />Old am I, but full of pep: <br />When I take a slug from the cup <br />I sing. <br />My ancient bones bask in the sun's glow, <br />And my curly, wise, grey head. <br />In that wise head, like woods in spring <br />Hums and hums a wiser wine. <br />Eternal thoughts flow and flow, <br />Like time.<br /><br />Julian Tuwim<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dancing-socrates/
