As a child he wondered
why anyone would want to grow up.
“Oh, grow up! ” friends would say to him.
“I’m tryin’, ” he would answer,
noncommittally.
Growing up,
it seemed to him,
meant growing down:
Lowering expectations,
tempering emotions,
having toys,
such as fast cars
or electronic paraphanalia,
but not calling them toys;
learning that being an adult
means that saying I love you
to anyone becomes laden
with gravity, not spontaneous
and beautiful the way a child
says it.
Is growing up
much different from
growing old?
he wondered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem