(to an old photo of me,
as an very young boy,
writing poems...)
Here I am an early boy
wondering in my way,
living dreams of joy
with new rising day.
Everything is on turning
into its golden yearn
and we grow in learning
as the years on burn.
Feelings come so easy
moments go and rise,
hours drifting on free
with its many surprise.
Young years on living
worrying not at all,
wonder hours giving
'till its next day's call.
Now I have grown on
finding different ways,
youthful moments gone
into their lost days.
But I keep on going
making dreams alive,
worthy joy'sknowing
dreams in their hive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem