A little child who randomly pry
keeping the land on his thigh,
to find the buried treasure
tinkle -tinkle, metal pleasure.
Mother lures him to come inside
sweets and some penny besides,
but small hands have big ambition
a man with a rich mission.
He works like a newbie in coal mine
with a hope to get the diamond shine;
dirty clothes goes dirtier
focused, unlike the one, whiner.
Tough job tires him
lunch time under the tree limb;
the tree welcomes the guest, giving mango pleasure,
now, the child got the child's treasure
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, like it. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, In The Words Of Bluesman Jack.