There is a smile on the lips of children;
There is a look of innocence, always;
They seem to forget and to forgive when,
Adults display a wretched, gloomy face!
Oh, how they play about and love their play!
Oh, how they long for love and words of praise!
Oh, how they dream of presents from a fay!
And how they fall asleep or cry always!
But, does this world not ill-treat children?
Do children have their freedom, entitled?
Are elders kind, giving them tender touch?
Many a time, their hearts seem anguish-filled!
How can this world deny children their needs?
What kind of trees develop from ill-formed seeds?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem