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