I know your life will be fine,
my little one, when I walk into your
lovely little pigsty of a room – with bits
of pencils on an unmade bed, books and
batteries scattered everywhere, the carpet
covered with toys and model cars, shoes hidden
beneath wet towels and dirty clothing – I know you
are a typical little boy, with stars in your eyes behind
those Harry-Potter glasses; while you devour one
book after another; travelling in your mind,
living a secret life in a mental extension
that adds a wonderful dimension
to ordinary life…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem