My nose is flat
From leaning up against the windowpane,
Wondering what they do in there -
The happy people,
The people who belong.
And how did they get in?
They make it look so easy,
But when I try
I bang against the glass.
Me and the June bugs,
Battering against the lighted windowpane,
And dying to get in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem