The tiger cub from the woods started their own another road for new forest,
The turtles have grown up and started walking to the big ocean,
The birds have started flapping their wings the white daffodils which looks like the fairy tales pixies have set their journey
But there's something wrong that telling us to come back and to them,
Even the tigers who are made from brightest burning fire stops to see the peek of them
The turtle have the knowledge of yin yang life and afterlife looks
towards the shell where he started his foot
The mother bird sees it's baby for the last time and the baby too shed it's tears while flying away
And some daffodils stays until flower is dead
This is something that no one escapes other than death, exile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem