My fickle two years grandson very extremely
Moves always, the whole flat for him
Impossible to keep tidy, everything becomes
At one glance topsy-turvy. On the bed
He jumps being a wild Tarzan. With tiny legs
He kicks red balls often, and sometimes on the punt
rows or sometimes chases furiously with gun
Abruptly towards me. I shake with pretentious terror
When he being an incredible giant destroys
Trivial things. Swooshing sword
Cuts the heads of vaporous rival. Awake
As long as multiple games keep busy.

Also I as like this child retain in game
All the time, playing with word in words puzzle


N.B: Translated from Shamsur Rahman’s poetry