Puppets to the Puppeteer
He pulls their strings
Dreams have wings
The fingers swing
Dance and sing
Actions spring
Fights in love
Separation
Cries
Clay
comes live
elements five
Its ego inflates
Dates after dates
Clay searches mates
Knows not its own final fate
Finally, comes the coup de grace
Of heraldry, pomp, and power no trace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem