Want To Be a Child
With small children I want to play
In the sand and sticky black clay
Again a child I want to be and feel
Out of the world’s torturing night and day
Never I could realize how so long of my life
Passed in a woeful struggles and strife
The moments concentrated into the years
And the time slipped away on sharp knife
I know the whole life will too slip away
Like a river flowing into the deep bay
All my desires, aspirations and hopes
Will remain mixed in the sticky clay
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