1956 Poem by Xavier Roelens

the smurfs watch smurfs on smurf watching smurfs on a
smurf on which they watch smurfs on which smurfs who
watch smurf on which uncle bob and aunt terry can be seen
come! come and see, smurfette!
but smurfette sits in her chair, even before the day has begun
in a chair between two teddy-smurfs, still undressed in a
threadbare, soft fabric chair with wooden armrests and she,
before she's quite worn-out, before the bleak of the outside
world breaks through, hears
come! come and see, smurfette!
and brainy smurf paces in front of the screen because papa
smurf this and papa smurf that and if gargamel had, but when
handy smurf grumbles because everything stays the same and
grouchy smurf because it doesn't, they clip brainy smurf by
his hat to a hook in the hallway and go play in the square.
toys aren't needed, they play smurfs and smurf squares from
one to ten and throw a pebble
come! come and see, smurfette!
and for gargamel it's yes and indeed, being alone. No brother
or sister. not really lonely, but alone. on rainy days he tinkers
smurfs and trees behind which they can hide and in which he
builds ingenious traps. because smurfs reside in a wellness
colony in a forest made from sun, he's figured this out, stand
close to frozen leaves and ice. they sniff the smell and cold
deeply into their blue lungs, until
come! come and see, smurfette!
clumsy smurf slips on the lake. his bump swells up and hurts.
they carry him quickly to papa smurf who happens to be
topping up his drinking beaker for the slugs in their birdcage.