Soft-feathered Phoenix burns into ashes
And then rise again like the morning sun,
The lightening of reborn soul flushes.
Truly, the Child is Father of the Man.
Small buds gleam in the rays, drench in water,
And then grows into flowers with the plan
Of unseen hands of scheming Creator.
Truly, the Child is Father of the Man.
Seeds of the dead trees fall, submerge on earth
Wood-cutters loads those tree away in Caravan
But new lives spring from that soil with rebirth.
Truly, the Child is Father of the Man.
Child becomes Father, it's law of Nature,
Small water-particles do form the Sea.
The Children are our past and our future.
In Them, we can see what we were, could be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem