Unhappiness rings like a bird in the distance.
Flying steadily under the scorching heat.
Constantly under the pressure.
Flying endlessly.
Trying. Keep trying.
This little bird does.
She's almost home.
Almost finished her migration.
She keep, keeps on.
Her mother and father wait at the end of the nest.
The heat of the sun burns her feathers.
Slowly as she glides by.
Her will is put to the ultimate testimate.
Her feathers, her feathers.
They burn away slowly, painfully.
'Mom! Dad! ' she shouts.
'I am trying so hard for you!
But why should I fly to you when your
very exsistence is making me die! '
Mother and father bird reply:
'You should always finish what you start:
Even if it KILLS you.....'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem