Ему было лет семнадцать, не больше, но он уже был старым.

I wish I had Her constant cheek; I wish that I could sing All sorts of funny little songs, Not quite the proper thing. I’m very gauche and very shy, Her jokes aren't in my line; And, worst of all, I'm seventeen While She is forty-nine.

Когда мне было семнадцать, я и представить себе не могла, насколько коротка жизнь, как недолговечны наши возможности.

I go to concert, party, ball — What profit is in these? I sit alone against the wall And strive to look at ease. The incense that is mine by right They burn before her shrine; And that’s because I’m seventeen And She is forty-nine.