Katouchka , will you sill love me when I am old ? by the Bad of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion

 I would ask of you, my Katouchka ,a question ancient,soft and low, 
That has given many  I think a great heartache,as the epoch of seasons come and go.

Down the rivulet  of life together,Katouchka, we are about to sail, side by side,
Hoping some bright day to Shomron anchor safe beyond the cascading  tide.

Today our Zion sky is cloudless,butt grey nimbus clouds may unfold;
And tempest storms  gather round us, Katouchka,will you still love me when I'm old?

Katouchka your love I know is veracious , but even the  truest love may grow cold;
It is this that I would ask you, will you still love me when I'm old?

Life's moon will in two score year start waning, and its evening bells eventually be tolled,
But Katouchka my heart shall know  no melancholy sadness,If you'll still love me when I'm old.

Kaouchka when my hair shade the white snowdrift, and mine eyes shall nebulous dimmer grow,
I would need to lean upon some loved one, through voyages of life's  as I go.

I would claim of you a promise, worth to me more than ten  Fort Knox of gold;
It is only this, my Katouchka ,that you'll still  love me when I'm old.