My childhood was such a magical time. My memory takes me back
so many years ago. I had a little friend, my best buddie,
we played together all the time.
We walked the dusty country roads, hand in hand.
One day my little friend showed me a gift from her sister.
She said, "this is a souvenir." She had a special place
on her dresser for this object.
At that time I did to know the word souvenir. I only know she
treated this object almost as it was sacred.
I remember thinking to myself, "I wish I had a souvenir," and
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem