I can remember like a child in spring
The joy and beauty of the world expressed
In tender lyrics lifted by the wings
Of my imagination that caressed
My whole being... Oh to be a child!
To yield to sudden passions, running wild
In face of all eternity! To live
Without rules, completely free,
To be what you've always been, to be
Yourself completely and to give
Your full attention to the moment's bliss,
Like two young lovers in a drunken kiss,
Fully absorbed in their sultry play,
To be completely frank, to boldly say
What's on your mind, your innermost dreams,
To bare your soul to the world and scream
Into the vastness of the starry sky,
I can remember tears in my eyes
And all the things I couldn't do or say--
I'm a child by night, I'm dead by day,
Chained to the dead existence of adults,
The sober world of practical and dull
Or slick investors in the world of arts,
Where music, poetry and automotive parts
Are all the same on the production line
That feeds the masses ignorant and blind
To beauty that is hidden in the heart,
And so they fondle their private parts,
Dreaming of some eternal paradise--
But they're dead inside. It's in their eyes
So vacant and expressionless and cold--
I'm a child by night, by day I'm old
And tired of their meaningless routine--
I'm a child in their mad machine.

                                        December 3, 1994
                                    --Alexander Shaumyan