A cow won't value it tail
Until it is severed
And flies will besiege and taunt it.
It will begin to blink its eyes
And stamp its hoaves on the ground
And twitch its muscles in vain.
The tail is gone
So is its freedom to use it
And freedom is always so much
So that no one knows it can be scarce.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem