For some, old age is a reward

For some, old age is a reward,
A precious gift in life’s embrace.
But we don’t need such rewards—
We fight against the aging race.

Life throws a menacing challenge at us,
It wants to conquer us with age.
The cunning crone is unaware,
She cannot defeat a fighter’s rage.

We’ve known the pain of falls before,
And pride—the joy of victory gained.
The successes of new generations—
Our clever old age must be explained.

For us, the training is the treasure,
We can pass on the wisdom we find.
No one rises who hasn’t fallen,
No one conquers who’s not been aligned.

Yes, we are sambists—veterans,
Competitors and masters of the art.
And it’s too early for us to rest—
It’s time to train, we play our part.

In the training hall, all is familiar,
Adrenaline ignites the blood.
Make way, old age, we feel at home,
Sambists take on the fight, for good!