Whenever, I open the door of the backyard,
Heavy gusty wind takes me on the lap of Dryad
Under her dense hairy shade, what I see
One secluded child is playing, singing, crying,
Worried- How to fill the stomach with leaves?
“Boil and eat with salt”just to fill the vacuum
An age of running behind the butterfly, dragon fly,
He must be in garden to play and enjoy with flower,
Keeping future in mind, he is carving the present,
Creating a legacy of words, singing for the present,
The gift to be given to this world; a poem to know,
He came to this world, let me tell my pain, before I go,
When I realize the child resembles with me, I wipe out
Tears from his face then door is shut without any doubt
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An age of running behind the butterfly, dragon fly, - - - a happy childhood