Last night I watched a fascinating program on TV about child geniuses. One little chap as young as two and a half had amazing mathematical ability.  Other children showed their brilliance in music, chess, computer programming and so on. But the young Russian poet, Nika Turbina, stole the show with an amazingly emotional rendition of her own poetry. She didn’t look more than about 6 as she read or rather declaimed her sad poems to a rapt audience.  I couldn’t understand a word as it was in Russian but she was so passionate in her presentation that I found myself quite riveted. It’s said that gazing out of a window…