In old age the body tends to sag.
If you sag in my arms will love grow less?
Oh no, my dear; I’ll love you all the more,
Be tender more, be gentler. I confess
I love you more each passing day;
Your thinking soul ensures my happiness.

In old age wrinkles grow more deep.
If your wrinkles wrinkle my wrinkles, we’ll be fine.
Oh yes, my dear, I’ll love you all the more,
More thoughtful be, and more considerate.
I love you more the more I make you mine.
Age does not endanger our happiness.