When I was but a child
anywhere I go I find magic
and you could see the joy
and delight in me everywhere
I go; but as I become a man
life becomes a strange thing
and I stranger to all the magical
places and people I use to love.
Standing from outside and looking
in now I realize what turn me
into a stranger it was because
I let the child in me die
The innocent mind of the child and the corrupt mind of the at play. Beautiful poem...10+
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Not dead, only asleep. Very thoughtfully written poem, AB.