First we learn to walk indoors,
the path is full of pebbles, pot holes.
We tumble down, kick and fight
till the floor turns plain and smooth.
Our roads of life are topsy-turvy
weight and force of steps make them even,
Roads are endless, so are journeys
we make them smooth for posterity.
10th July,2017.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem