soils is little pant,
plays around dirty sand,
tiptoed around like a drunk,
babbles, because he struggles to talk
cries aggressively,
till he get what he wants,
do silly things,
though his mind is still numb,
he rolls over stemps,
pours hot liquid on his head,
and left her mama running for help.
Look up to the moon for long,
and it will suprise you
what you will see,
when its being replace by a golden sun.
Troublesome little david,
is now ripe and mature,
to go outta is papa's shade,
and off his mama's care,
those who aid and abet,
far away to chase his dream.
His luggages has been packed,
after precious prayers on him,
he looked back,
at is gold and glass,
loosing the drop of tears,
as his father still does that silently,
trying to prove a strong man,
but her mama's humming seriously and the entire household joins,
and shed together this passionate tears,
tho' his lil brother doesn't,
pretending as if it doesn't bother,
but cries inside,
till he has a running nose.
David look up to the sky,
to save a drop from his face,
as he moved out on a dream-time journey
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem