Pounding nails until fingers hurt,
Fixing that fort,
Climbing pines' mid-branch's small perch,
Sticky sap drips,
Welding skin with sweat and bark-bits
Lifting high our climbing ladder.
Seeking birds or boy-dug trenches,
Keeping roving warriors distant,
Site of thinking,
Playing and growing with close friends;
High home of love,
Being made of my own making.
Place of refuge,
Escaping homework or home's work,
Endless these days,
Flying away and now all gone,
Shielding vast treasures of boyhood;
That's a boy's fort,
Proving a boy's worth in effort.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem