You cannot hold it . . .
Pretty girls grow old
and indolent; there is an end to spring.
When breeze is warm and moon so fine,
if you can manage yellow gold, buy smiles.
Nurture the tender blossoms there, don’t wait.
No flowers to be plucked
from empty bough.
translated by J.P. Seaton
**though I wouldn’t personally choose the word “indolent” but the poet, or translator, did.
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Leonard Durso 
No. I know some very beautiful women who have grown more beautiful as they have aged. But the pretty young ones are still pretty.
I know both but I look at their character more than appearance.
Beautiful poem! No flower to be plucked! Well shared 💐
Thank you.
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I like what the end of spring does here, pointing to the girls. So nice to see you still blogging, Leo. Hope it’s a wonderful spring.
So far it is. Lovely ever day. Hope yours is lovely as well.
I don’t like ‘indolent’ either. I know you can no longer hold it. . . .but yes you can. In your heart.