You are confident
in your babywalker
gliding like a ballroom dancer
among the toddling two-year-olds.
Quick as a trained assassin,
a child of maybe nearly three,
comes running up – and takes your little hand.
You smile...
he bites... you scream...
I'm there to comfort...
it's your first lesson
in the unpredictability
of human contact
in a dog-eat-dog world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'You are confident/ in your babywalker/ gliding like a ballroom dancer...' this superb image is so real it's tangible, as is the pain and emotion 'of human contact/ in a dog-eat-dog world.' You have managed to transform the first harsh brush with reality into a beautiful poem. S :)