Beautiful are the pictures of sweet tomorrows
Beautiful are the future we hope to see
Beautiful are all sweet and tender
But like a dice in a players cup
Sweet tomorrow wrestles with fear
On what the future holds.
No doubt things are wearing apart
And it seems the mighty sun
Has been replaced for a mere lamp
And the mild breeze which cools our tender skin
Seems to blow dust to our brains
Yet we beckon our souls to answer again and again.
Motherly care were the sweetest touch any child could get
And the sweet frantic lullaby that accompanies our dreams
But now, we have abandoned our shepherds
For an adulthood of liberty
An adulthood of errands
Father would wash his hands on clean soapy water
And mother would cry
If sweet tomorrow will still come by
But if only we can filter the past to make amends
Then we can be sure to lick the candy of sweet tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem