Even as a child, how I used to enjoy A simple stroll through the woods When innocent instincts ruled my heart And ran after every call from the wild or bush, Mesmerized by the warbling of the cuckoo and the thrush. It was a time when every rainbow and every peacock feather Ignited endless curiosity in me And colored my imagination wild. How with my friends, I ran to the beautiful seaside Watching the wild waves’ fury and cooled by the kiss of spray Feeling the sea foam and the sand under our bare feet With what delirious joy we watched at night A hundred fireflies dancing around Wondering if they were stars, fallen from heaven. Like the sweeping breeze, we ran over grassy slopes, Looking for the bleating lamb Singing in chorus, ‘Mary had a little lamb’ They were all spontaneous acts like breathing, With no interest in gaining anything or impressing anybody But just the simple signs of being alive, And a way of burning the exuberant energy that overwhelmed us. I was never called a poet or an artist then— Not worried about rehearsing or perfecting my art. I was just an observer, inhaling all the beauty With a fluid spontaneity, characteristic of childhood
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