Little boys are holy-terrors
Parents can't read miscievious minds
So occurances are understood. Like "first days of aviation,
When stunt-flying was the rage.
One-wingers had open-cockpits
And parachuting hit front-page." We kids were in love with flying,
Even joined "Cereal Radio-Club,"
Parachuting looked as easy
As "shooting fish in tub!" So brother grabbed mom's umbrella
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem