A child's daydreams;
They come, then go,
They crystalize,
Then melt, like snow.
The young child plays;
She knows no troubles,
Her daydreams drift,
Like clouds of bubbles.
Her life, so simple now,
No stress, no strife,
May this remain so,
The whole of her life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's really nice to be a child, Clive.... a huge 10+++*