Grandfather and I

I am Misti--, didn't get it? Misti(sweetness) is my name, My grandmother gave me that Honor, I'm too grateful. I'm going to 8 months This November soon, My limbs are Not properly working now, As a little bird fears to fly Into the sky, below the mountain, I am quite like that: I can't Hold my legs sticked to ground. My voice is like the groaning Of the cloud you can hear but Not to decode the meaning. I want to speak with definite Sense but my tongue Slips, it reminds my age: I'm very delighted for having Such a temple where mom, dad, Grandfather, grandmother and uncles (Mee too) all together. O, grandfather! I'm too little to climb On your shoulder, I want to take Repose there. But don't worry grandpa, very soon I'll grow up & I'll be there. When I'll complete my two years, Promise me: you'd be my horse & I'll take a ride on you. Thinking so, much pleasure I'm Feeling with supreme verve: But I can't make my words way. Dear grandpa! when I grow up, I'll go to the field to feed you: The cool rice with water, onion, Green chilli and boiled potato I'll carry all in a pot on my Little head. When you consume the food, I'll be busy catching the grasshoppers then, how glad I'd be! I know you are all worried About my unskilled thinking, Of course, that should be! But you all have forgot one thing: I'm the MUSE of my dearest uncle!