A Child's Game Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Who is making bubbles to enjoy rainbows in it?
I don't know but I am sure there is an intelligent child,
He sincerely wants the bubbles could survive for ever
He truly loves the bubbles, and he is at all not wild.

His game will continue as long as the innocent child
Is grown elder, and learns why the life ends in death
I am sure, the child will make a bubble one day
That has an everlasting life and an immortal breath.

I hope his game will be developed in an invention
An atmosphere that does not breaks the bubbles,
I am a bubble and I take it as my bad luck only
A trial bubble born in an age of trials and troubles.

Bubbles are colorful though have a very short life
Best of luck for you, carry on playing your game,
In a moment a bubble teaches us what our life is
Bubbles break before we may give them a name.

A Brownie, an Asian, a Muslim and a Pakistani,
I wish I would not have been given these names
What's the use of giving a name to a bubble!
When I shall vanish in the soil with so many blames! !