Cow eyes,
Messy hair,
As they stare and stare,
Squinting with confusion,
At what they see,
Thinking, what does it have to do with me,
Their world revolving,
Around and around,
At what they think they found,
Scribbling, coloring,
A work of art, only they think,
Smiling bashfully when they get their ink,
Whiny, they don’t understand,
Why they don’t get their cookie,
Dreaming only of a fairy,
That will come and capture,
And take them away,
Into a sunset think they may,
But they are only children,
Tugging at their bonnets,
Do only the five-year-old poets.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem