I am a toy soldier
Standing on some grass,
Made of painted hessian,
By a sea of glass.
I fire my gun in battle
But do not make a sound.
The only noise is prattle
Of little children 'round.
But when these kids are older,
I know I will be dead.
They'll melt me down for sinkers,
'Cause I am made of lead.
They'll hang me on some string
They call a fishing line.
Then dropp me in the water,
And wet these feet of mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem