The world through a window,
has spots, stains, and smudges,
is fuzzy without glasses.
Framed with metal rock hard,
is sometimes cold and sometimes hot.
A perfect window is as rare,
as a dancing grizzly bear.
The secret is, let me tell you please,
look closer and you may see
slitted eyes & pointed horns three.
Look out the window and that you may see,
oh...
wait...
It was a mirror, and wasn't that thee?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem