Before you were intelligent you
spouted taught beliefs and ambitions,
you cherub, of all things, apple, puppet.
So long you must have smiled
inside your father’s house
and your mother’s home.
There was a plan,
but one day you stand
blueprints scattered, outdated.
Outwitted by your designs,
recalculating, though you hate it,
the way back to success.
When you were dumb and free
you rode bicycles before bed
and the future controlled your head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem