Childhood is the worthiest gold,
In a treasury which is quite old.
When the mind thinks of those times,
When we sang sweet small rhymes.
We remember the houses we lived in,
We remember the parks we played in,
We remember the friends, we played with,
But don’t remember the books we studied with.
There was no tension in old life,
Because we had no study and strife,
As we grew more in age,
Stress increased and in study we engaged.
We couldn’t play, we couldn’t enjoy,
We could only study with joy.
And when we had time to enjoy,
No body was there to share our joy.
Then we would think of our old time,
When we played in the evening sun shine.
When the ball was thrown at a great speed,
The ball was successfully cede.
Like this, the evening sun shine
Would change to the dark night sky.
Then our mothers would call us to dine,
After our play under the dark night sky.
There's every child within us...Keep on writing! ! ! Cate
what we treasure and what we miss.... but never kill in the child in you... for he is the poet in you... good luck...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice i liked it