It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my hands?

I can draw.

On my right hand, it’s always working,

I draw six fingers.

On my left hand, it doesn’t work so hard,

I draw four fingers.

These hands

are not yours,

and they’re not yours.

They’re mine!

Mine!

It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my feet?

I can run.

“Get up, little boy!”

My feet grow lighter.

I want to run around the world

to where people need help!

These feet

are not yours,

and they’re not yours.

They’re mine!

Mine!

It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my eyes?

I can see.

I can watch speedy horses,

and urge the birch whip onwards.

I can watch powerful wrestlers,

fighting in a distant ring.

These eyes

are not yours,

and they’re not yours.

They’re mine!

Mine!

It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my ears?

I can listen.

When people mumble “Do this!”

my ears shrink.

When they start to tell a favorite story,

they prick up straight away and get bigger.

These ears

are not yours,

and they’re not yours.

They’re mine!

Mine!

It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my mouth?

I can speak.

Maybe I don’t know

which is the right answer.

Are you really my friend?  Yes, yes!

Shall I pull up this pretty flower?  No, no!

This mouth

is not yours,

and it’s not yours.

It’s mine!

Mine!

It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my nose?

I can smell.

Amid the sparse grass on the steppe

I smell the sharp scent of wild leek.

Amid the many nighttime smells,

I smell the smoke from my ger.

This nose

is not yours,

and it’s not yours.

It’s mine!

Mine!

It’s me!

Me!

What

can I do

with my head?

I can imagine.

When I paint myself with brush and ink

My head is bigger than my body.

It can’t hold all these thoughts -

I can’t draw it any other way!

This head

is not yours,

and it’s not yours.

It’s mine!

Mine!