Light as a feather, but heavy with dreams,
It flies through the air, or so it seems,
but deep within, I know its true power,
that remains with me every single hour.
And as the sun sets, painting the sky in gold,
the feather continues to fly, so bold,
for it knows that with each passing day,
It's getting closer to its dreams in every way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Optimism is great.