Still his steps are incorrect,
But he is curious and brave,
To the joy of my grandmother and mother,
The little imp went laughing.
In his eyes the sun is shining
And the legs the grass confuses,
But through almost the bird talk,
Just about to erupt a words.
Puffing the little boy is from the efforts,
Life to learn the hard work is,
The little hands are up like a wings
That bears him in the life now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem