Child, howhappyyouaresittinginthedust, playingwithabrokentwigallthemorning.
Ismileatyourplaywiththatlittlebitofabrokentwig.
Iambusywithmyaccounts, addingupfiguresbythehour.
Perhapsyouglanceatmeandthink, “Whatastupidgametospoilyourmorningwith!”
Child, Ihaveforgottentheartofbeingabsorbedinsticksandmud-pies.
Iseekoutcostlyplaythings, andgatherlumpsofgoldandsilver.
Withwhateveryoufindyoucreateyourgladgames, IspentbothmytimeandmystrengthoverthingsInevercanobtain.
InmyfrailcanoeIstruggletocrosstheseaofdesire, andforgetthatItooamplayingagame.
