We live in our own world,
A world that is too small
For you to stoop and enter
Even on hands and knees,
The adult subterfuge.
And though you probe and pry
With analytic eye,
And eavesdrop all our talk
With an amused look,
You cannot find the centre
Where we dance, where we play,
Where life is still asleep
Under the closed flower,
Under the smooth shell
Of eggs in the cupped nest
That mock the faded blue
Of your remoter heaven.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
The first few lines emphasis that the adults are unable to go back to their childhood. Even if you go on your hands and knees and try acting like a child, you still won't be able to be a child. The blue color of the birds' eggs are a brighter blue than the sky itself. The eggs are 'mocking' the polluted sky. The blue sky is a metaphor for happiness, which has faded and become remote.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poem is about us and what we have lost.