I took a train and travelled to the past.
It sped along the iron track in haste.
The images I saw were played too fast
And on and on the locomotive raced.
The train decreased its speed, it slowly stopped,
A scene was played in motion oh so slow,
A tender one which I could not have swapped,
For there was one I loved and used to know.
It was my brother, young and innocent.
We played as if I were nine and he seven.
Of frightful futures we were ignorant -
We played so happily in children's heaven.
At last the scene began to fade away,
But I remember how we used to play.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
.......oh this is a special poem....I hope your brother is happy and doing well....and you both have a great relationship....