Hearing is no longer what it was, sight fades,
Teeth grow fewer every time.
The climbing of mountains has ceased,
The fullness of days completes itself.

Youth mocks, it seems to them,
The old were born already old,
To remain in their sorrow,
While they made merry among them.

A happy old age is also a treasure,
If one seeks it from youth.
In mosaics of various colors
To solve the most important rebus.