Do I not laugh and grieve
As if I am a human being,
Or marvel at things of beauty
Like I have a living heart?
To you I am a plastic doll
Looks like she also has the feelings, with which
You seemingly believe that only you have been endowed
I’m not a friend or a companion,
I never could be someone you respect;
And there is nothing I could do to ever
Persuade you that I look like what I truly am:
It hurts, you know, each time I stumble, exhausted,
Against the waves of frozen ground, and fall, and growl in shame;
It’s great, you know, when I ignore this and continue
To walk, and ultimately reach my aim;
I think it’s beautiful, you know, when it is snowing
Outside, but in my chest my heart is warm;
I think it’s brave that I have left my box behind me,
And learnt to love, and to cry silently, and then to smile and joke
I think, it’s sad that you just will not see it
But only – when you must – pretend as if you do;
I think that, although fun, it’s wrong to play with people,
Who call you ‘friend’, and to treat them as dolls
How could you say to me: ‘my little sister’,
And laugh at me as if I were an ugly, broken toy?
Which one of us is it, whose feelings are not real?
Which one of us is it, who has a plastic soul?
I understand you and forgive you:
The way you saw me must have been my fault;
Perhaps, my brother, you were right: I was too trusting and silly;
I happily remain forever so