When I was young and brave,
And my world was fun and new,
I'd pick a bunch of dandelions
And offer my flowering hands to you.
Through the eyes of a little boy,
The world is full of wonderment and beauty.
When he grows to be a man,
The wonderment is replaced by duty.
The difference between a boy
And the man he is soon to become,
Can be as different as the dark of night
And the blaze of the noon-day sun.
For when a boy glances at a dandelion,
He sees a flower - beautiful, yellow and sweet.
The man sees nothing but a weed,
Which he crushes under his feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
why you be crushing dandelions under your feet? LB - is cute.