I have no idea how to teach this cute little guy,
Who has no clue what sound does a D make,
Or a K,
But I let him be the teacher today,
And I am his only student!
He has curly dark hair, and he has lovely bright eyes,
He loves playing with LEGO, and build towers,
But I can't make him write with pencils,
Or draw anything except scary dinosaurs!
Perhaps he should be in the woods,
Wandering, and toying with pebbles,
Perhaps he learns from the chirping birds,
camouflaging Lizards, and scurrying Squirrels.
Perhaps he learns from the vast sky,
To paint with all that amazing colours,
Perhaps he learns from the old Banyan tree,
How to count the numbers!
Perhaps he is my little Krishna,
Playing a flute on the treetop,
And chasing the cattle from their shelter,
And harnessing the sheep to their mother.
I watch the little boy,
And wonder!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful. I too look for Little Krishna in every child I see. May be it is in the heart of every Indian