ADOPT IM
If you say, as you do,
That I am better off with you,
Why do you blot each memory
And tell me that I am not me?
You were a child; have you not seen
That children know where they have been?
And, though you want me to forget,
You help me to remember yet.
Why do adults think that we,
As children, are too blind to see?
Sister Dear of mine,
I want to say, "Don't cramp the child,
But help him understand meanwhile.
So tell him of his ancestry,
And let him choose whom he will be.
He may know more than you surmise,
For did not we- you and I?
We saw the truth with our own eyes
And had no faith in those who lied.
For someday he will choose- not you-
No matter what you try to do."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A child realises more than we think and soon develops the art of choosing. A salutary tale, well written.