Pettetino - the missing piece

For everybody their missing piece
We search,
Then search the world over
For our missing pieces.
I ask how come I found mine so young
When the bitter tears of youth
Have not yet been sown?
Why, am I dealt so many blind alleys
That while wrong
Were meant in youth to be fretfully searched?
Why in you do I find my childhood
And my old age
In one peaceful stroke?
Without the tiresome learning
That adolescence sets before me?