The first warm light that the young child absorbs,
On her first, flower strewn day in the world,
Is composed of calm, gentle, gliding birds.
It's such a soothing light that slowly pours
From the tender skies of a flesh pink dawn.
Where dewdrops glisten on freshly cut lawns.
Fluffed clouds drift by like sly, muffled creatures,
Amidst a deep blue marble world so bright.
She observes the divine day's feathers fall,
Before the light fades and then pillowed sleep;
Where eerie, starry dreams merge with the real
And she hears the magic spirits' call.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The world of children is always brimmed with innocence and pure wishes.