How advanced they are, these children of the future,
Like small adults, within their tiny frames,
They grow up in a fast 'speed driven' culture,
Where 'learning pressures' change their kind of games,
Where is their childhood, in all this hurly burly,
Where is their pure untainted view of things,
Why do they have to grow so old, so early,
And lose the joy that only childhood brings.
Our childhood was filled with thoughts of joy and gladness,
We lived our lives, oblivious to the world
And all the hardships, wars, the grief and sadness,
We stood, waiting for our lives to be unfurled.
We had time to grow, and gain an understanding,
Of each new phase, each change along the way,
As we grew slowly, our senses all expanding,
So with clarity, we slowly changed our play.
We had a framework on which to build and flourish,
Slow and steady, this was no rushed affair,
Taking each step, then step by step to nourish,
Our childhood, so finally adulthood we would share.
What will become, of these 'New Century' learners,
I doubt if they, a dreamy childhood see,
Will they then tell to all those bright discerners
Of their own, how they remembered their childhood to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem