For child?
Tied to hand has balloons
White, purple and a pink;
The last is strange
Seems to shape a letter
A, B, C, uncertain! ?
Shiny but not silver
Neither call it golden.
Wild balloons like horses
Their main though girlish hair
Dancing soft in the air
Up and down, on shoulders
Giving shape to the necks.
Wearing large, small bells
Nostrils are engines
Of trains and the ships
Pluming hot steam
Of breath in the cold,
As cries burning coal
In furnace and chimney.
Hidden is in wheeler
Toddler? Smaller? A baby?
Measurement is revealed
By rollers and the seat.
Mother holds, is on run
Aiming for a white car
Korean, named: "Tuscan"!
This is what parents are
Play games, blame child!
It must have been around
For ages; long, long time
Must question turning sun!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem