Let me tell you a cold story
of this lonely little bird
Who flew in skies of gold and glory
Whose song, for miles, would be heard
It fell, a stone, to Earth one day
Found no more strength to fly
It huddled in an alleyway
It waited there to die
By a little girl, it was then found
Who loved it more and more
She helped it learn to leave the ground
And once again, to soar
This story won't bring tears to eyes
As it comes, out of blue
But don't lose sight of golden skies
Because the bird, my dear, is you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem