Playthings
Child ,how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.
I smile at your play with that little bit of the broken twig.
I am busy with the account,adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think,” what a stupid game to spoil your morning with!”
Child , I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies
I seek out costly palything ,and gather lumps of gold and silver
With whatever you find you creat your glad games, I spend both my time and my strength over things I can never obtain
In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game 。
