Icarus tried to feel wonderful,
He could try at least to fly,
But instigators of happiness were beautiful.
Instead of flight, the tragic became
A comical effect as he flew
And wings were aflutter and warm.
Near the ocean, his Sun was against him,
For dripping was the oil into ocean,
And diving was the maniac, all numb.
Icarus is still aiming for life,
But he sighs and he drowns,
With water as his foe and wife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem