Someone moulded a landscape out of mud
hung up a velvet sky
then cut out some cardboard walls
and lots of paper soldiers to put inside.
One day the paper soldiers came to life
they flexed their paper muscles
thought about their paper lives
paper loves,
but then realizing what they were
they painted medals on their uniforms
and began to draw their own blood.
Somebody stepped in just in time
made a batch of shiny tin generals
with real medals!
Put them into cardboard towers
(high above those paper soldiers)
and now the tin general's decide
when blood is drawn.
So the paper soldiers live or die
beneath that velvet sky, tin general's eye
and the cardboard walls only thicken.
Though if one should happen to cry too hard
his paper heart might simply
wash away
with the mud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem