He is carved from metal and wood,
Beauty is a sign, beauty shall obey.
The sculpture describes a living,
It is living from dusk to dawn,
Only my loving is his dying in this year.
Derange him not, make him sane
As an object too godly offering shame.
The depth of his play is like that of art,
He is art, and not me, so he must be beautiful
And he will be defined by his looks.
He is just a fine mediocre creation of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem