The little puppet sits on the shelf
staring at me through his glass eyes
I wonder what he sees,
are my troubles fascinating to him?
His jaw opens from time to time
I wish he tell me something.
Funny or sad
maybe even a sonnet or two
All he does is gape
spy on me and pass silent judgement.
How I really hate that thing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem