The new-born babe helplessly lies
In mother’s lap, most of the time;
For nursing, care and love, it cries –
Before slumber, ‘lullaby’ rhyme.
Like frisking lambs, all children play,
And wear a smile on face always,
And jump about with joy all day,
And cry in sympathetic ways.
The adolescent questions much,
Disobeying and works with fuss,
Refusing house-hold chores to touch,
And does most things under duress.
The adult stands on his own feet;
None can advise him/ her with ease;
Deciding what and when to eat,
As trials come, to spoil the peace.
But old-age mellows everyone!
The hunch-backed frame is slow and weak;
While daily jobs are left half-done,
For help, they always others seek!
From womb to tomb, this is what’s man;
Even the mighty ones turn calm,
Whatever be their earthly span;
They turn to God for heart’s-soul’s balm!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-6-2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem