On a trip, to a museum I was.
There a statue, made of grey stone I saw.
Statue of a little boy.
In his hands holding a jar.
Filled with fireflies, was that jar.
And at it, he was looking.
I looked into his eyes, which were telling me something.
In his eyes were some dream.
They told me that, he wants to walk.
The boy made of grey stone.
He lives in museum, standing alone.
And loneliness, makes him cry.
And no one hear his any moan.
He wants to go out, and enjoy the open air.
And birds sitting on trees he wants to stare.
And look at roses, and in winter, girly red noses.
And a friend, to them, everything to share.
And catch fireflies himself.
And put them in the jar.
And he wishes that he had a home with a shelf.
To put that jar on.
And sleep when he's tired of standing.
But he wishes what is against the nature.
Because he is just a stone made creature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem