I stop by in front of a pond,
listening to the humble frogs' songs.
The melody tells of a tales,
as I listen, the whole story unveiled.
There's a story of a boy and his dream,
frivolous, helpless, and all that he seems.
There's a story of a boy and his shoes,
the path and the destination he is to choose.
There's a story of a boy and his book,
poems, stories, and all things you can look.
There's a story of a boy and his hope,
for the Time's willing, for a while it stops.
There's a story of a boy and a pond,
tears, smiles, and hopes he lives on.
There's a story of a frogs' symphony,
flowing is a memory of the melody and me..
So I am here for the song that they sing,
in this old pond there's a hope that I cling.
I shall care of nothing more else,
nothing, but myself and this once, childhood place..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem....Joyful reading.