The American Part 2

And old age fell heavily upon him

Before he could even realize;

And just before the break of dawn

He set out again for the village.

Fifty years he had been gone,

He knew no one anymore;

All the years he spent in America

Had come to nothing at all.

He found himself back in his village, alone,

Not knowing what to do;

“As I was born a poor man,” he said,

“So poor I shall die.”

One morning at the clinic

There stood an elderly woman;

She was still beautiful,

Still gentle and sweet.

Their eyes met suddenly,

And a shiver ran through them both;

They looked at one another once again

Without speaking a word.

Then the old woman began to cry,

Her lips were trembling;

The old man slowly rose

And handed her his handkerchief.

“Who are you, my old dear,

With tears within your eyes?

You have broken my little heart

Into a thousand pieces.”

“I am your fiancée,

Your very first love—

The one you told you loved

Even if you lived on bread and salt.”

He crossed his trembling hands,

Clutching tightly to his cane;

Tears fell from his eyes

Onto his handsome suit.

Unmarried were they both,

Without children or grandchildren;

But now it was far too late—

The years had already passed.