THE MUSEUM OF CHILDHOOD MEMORY
I did what I could and built a museumUnlike the ones you have seen,I gathered the memories one by oneSorting them into pavilions of memory.
At first I had to work with careIn gathering the toys of childhood,Oh Lord, what I found deep in my memoryTip-cats, rag balls, wooden swords, slingshots.
Somewhere a car built out of wireWith a long steering wheel also of wire,Further on, a ball-bearing cartWritten upon it “made in Imeri”.
Then I found some clothes, completely worn out,Woolen sweaters beautifully knitted by hand,Somewhere in a corner a pair of sandalsSewn with thread where they had torn.
A rag bag with a long strapSome books inside and some notebooks,The bag I carried lightly on my shoulderHad pencils inside and bottles of ink.
And I found a photograph albumWith little black and white photos,Oh Lord, how sad that some are missing,Some of my old friends are missing.
This is how I built the modest museumWith what I could gather from childhood,It was everything that speaks in silenceOf the happy time of that poverty.
I did what I could and built a museumA museum just for the age of childhoodFor the golden and selfless ageThe most precious gift from God
