Bad boy,
I tell the god
like a small child
who tells the stone
s/he is tripped against.
In no time i smile
like the little one on
spotting a colorful butterfly
or a puppy or a kitten
with wetness hanging
on the eye corners
and damp scars on the cheeks...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We become children in presence of God. Naughty child can say anything without offence. Nicely expressed in the poem. Thank you.