I wish I could fly.
Defy gravity so much that it could never pull me back.
Then I'll just wake up one morning, being sung to by the birds in the sky.
And if ever I be put down,
let it be a sharp bullet piercing through my pillow-clouds, straight to my anti-gravity propeller, and be caught by the gunman.
With open arms I'll laugh with him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem