As a boy
My view of the world
Was an orange tree
It was beautifully fragrant
Fruitful and free
Standing in the sun
But now I have come to see
It was all pure fantasy
I have seen
Greed and cruelty
Hunger and poverty
I had made a fool of me
And now
Though it stands
Proud and tall
It is naked
For it grews no leaves at all
Oranges, once ripe for peeling
Are now as rotten as how I am feeling
As its bark crumbles today
I feel my orange tree fade away
Realizing, for the best,
It cannot stay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem