Sitting, wishing, dreaming
life was just a game.
I played the day,
slept through the night,
no care beside my name.
The little things in life did not seem so dear,
incalcuable moments to treasure,
in my youth this was not clear.
Innocent, juvenile, open,
the bold things I would say,
no riddles or uncertainty,
just went about my way.
My parents so amazed at everything I did,
they giggled at my insights,
for I was just a kid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful description of careless childhood............