O, how I love the childish things,
The things of no consequence,
That cause my mind to stall,
The burning topics of that day
The red-hot news,
That isn't really news at all;
How I love to hear excited chatter,
Delivered earnestly,
Intended to enthral,
Telling me absolutely nothing
Of any real importance
Except the most important thing of all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem