Youth and Age poem of George (Lord) Byron translated by Prof.Manzar Abbas Naqvi.

There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling’s dull decay;
‘Tis not on youth’s smooth cheek the blush alone which fades
so fast But the tender bloom of heart is gone ere youth itself be past.

Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness
Are driven o’er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess;
The shore to which their shiver’d sail shall never stretch again.
The magnet of their course is gone or only points in vain

Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down;
It cannot feel for others’ woes it dare not dream its own;
And though the eye may sparkle still tis where the ice appears.
That heavy chill has frozen o’er the fountain of our tears

Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest
Though wit may flash from fluent lips and mirth distract the breast
‘Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin’d turret wreathe
Or weep as I could once have wept o’er many a vanish’d scene!

All green and wildly fresh without but worn and gray beneath.
Oh could I feel as I have felt or be what I have been
As springs in deserts found seem sweet all brackish though they be
So midst the wither’d waste of life those tears would flow to me!