In the labyrinth of pace we are lost in the glitter and the noise
I fear for the child who grows up too soon and hides her tears
We do not see sparrows anymore and neither do we see toys
This world is too brutal so the child slowly dies in her fears

Pavements of concrete are filled and parks of clay are barren
Where are the novels? Where are the poems and the fables?
The libraries are dusty and the librarian is reading Byron
Alas! I see God mocking as we remodel the Tower of Babel

Does the child still stare at the cloud and wonder in awe?
"Is it a flower?Is it an animal or is it a white cotton candy?"
The world is too cold to let the child rejoice in her flaws
I pray that every child finds out that is it sand or just sandy?

In the union of the first droplets of rain and the clay
In the gentle rustling of the trees and the minty breeze
Let him feel sudden joy and the burden of dismay
Let the ****** flesh feel heat after being bitten by the bees

If we are gentle, careful and calm with every single child
They will know the earth is clayed and not just tiled