With so vivid a youth, not many people prove to be thinking old. One to the next, the next to one, so be a story told. English, once a second language, will thence be my first. I owe my rivals my sight, my family my hearing, Mrs. Banu and Mr. Okyar my touch, the Masters my smell but Miss Buket my taste. Oh, but eyes do steal my sight. Sharpest shadows, measure my verse so light. Should you write, do pen it at night, for distance... much success does plight. - 16, m, Turkey

[only the part above was sent]

to think old: to let thoughts become mature in the mind. (think for a long time)
rivals: the persons I am doing the same things with. (1 classmates  2 other poetry writers)
touch: the way the poet communicates with the reader. use of language.
smell: the thing that adds diversity and distinction to the sense of taste foods have. (diversifiers)
taste: the basis foods have. (1 the points where the poet may start from  2 core)
eyes: not yours or any other teacher's of course.
sharpest shadows: not blur. well-established. precisely shaped.
write: prepare a scenario or something in mind.
pen: write down on paper.

1
distance: the distance between you and your feelings. daytime not letting you be alone with yourself unlike the night.
plight: endanger

2
distance: the distance between lovers
plight: promise