I ordered sunshine from winter With a few clouds So they could draw sun pictures With long eyelashes So attentively -- The long-lashed children. II How happy they are With their houses, their streets In single dimension. If only we do not spoil the picture With our other dimensions Before the children find them. III The apples are red The leaves green And the clouds white as snow. It is not they -- The ones who spoil nature -- Not the children. IV Remember, won't you, How, stretched upon the floor, You would create A beautiful world with your crayon. How happy you were. Now, when you sit at great tables Remember, won't you? V This is not a stream This is not really a tree All of these are the beauty of nature Within you. VI If in that distant land Your mother were to see Her picture She would be pleased That she now resembles The mother you drew. VII Do not draw those cannon Or those rifles, I beg you. They would frighten the dove That perches on your windowsill Each morning. VIII The child grows up as he draws The picture grows with the child.