In my grandads room
there sits a little silver box
Its wrapped up in gold chains
and it's never been unlocked
It sometimes makes strange noises
and there's writing on the top
but we'll never ever know
what's in the little silver box.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Charles M Moore. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.