Who tells he is black or white?
And either he is not brown or yellow,
But he has some feathers of all those colors.
He tries to fly in the serene sky.
He begs and requests from his deceased loving Mom;
'Please show me the right direction
Where I can reach the sanctuary
And hide away from these cannibals.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very surreal. Like a bad dream. Mothers always care wherever they are. Wishing you a better, safer tomorrow. Always your friend at poemhunter, Sandra