The doll has been collected
And she is on the shelf.
Her pure soul is empty
And one can`t hear her breath.
There is a rusty needle
In the doll`s gentle heart.
And this heart`s slowly bleeding.
But nobody sees that.
The doll will keep on smiling,
Her eyes are like bright stars.
She is alive but dying
Because of whom she loves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem