When I hear the noise of children,
a few floors down the residence,
people say that their parents,
are busy in their one room abode.
When I hear the screams of children,
in the mornings of every Fridays,
people say that their parents,
are busy in making another one.
When I walk on the dusty roads,
I see the shirtless children,
playing merrily with flower eyes,
no dews, no dews, only sparkles.
Let the children play! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i appreciate your observation, neatly done