Mannequin
He drives next to me,
It is funny how he sits.
The thick trunk of a tree,
Straight, un-moving.
Both his hands on the wheel,
Seems to hold a bad dog's leash.
Only looks straight,
Knows not of right and left.
Such kinds of drivers,
Are quite dangerous.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem