I have desired to rush back to childhood days; to go
Where springs and summer and ripe water melon do not fail,
To fields and meadows where flies no sharp and sided hail,
And a few lilies and spring tulips in up hill wind blow.
And I have asked in those back days to be
Where no storms, rebukes and chides shake the lovely grass,
Where the green swell is in the havens grasp
And out of the swing of the evil hand that tortured out glee from me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem