When we are old.

One day when we are old,

We may regret not being bold:

The hesitation to feel the first hug,

Will send us smiling with a shrug;

What greater delight can there be,

Than recalling the past together with me?

One day when we are old,

Our rough hands will still hold;

Sitting on a long bench in a downtown park,

Murmuring our words happily like old lark;

What greater wonder can there be,

Than imagining the scene together with me?

One day when we are old,

A touching story will be told;

The autumn moon may quietly peep,

As the crickets praise a love ocean-deep;                        

What greater pleasure can there be,

Than singing the same song together with me?

One day when we are old,

There's something we never unfold;

The setting sun may colour our wrinkled faces,

While the twilight can blur our loved traces;

What greater relief can there be,

Than burying any hard feeling together with me?