Plumeless frailty sat
In his nest fragile he was
Fresh from the egg
Without a quilt
He shivered of cold
Famished, he yawned
Waiting for his mother.
She alighted with
A green little insect
Between her beak
Threw it into his toothless mouth
And hunger's tempo went to rest.
Next time frailty
Sat on the edge of the aging nest
Watching the world
He saw some little insects
Crawling on a bough
And made a fledgling flight
Across to them
Struggling, frailty conquered the war
Next day his soft plumes were full
He made it to other trees
Frailty was gone
His yawning mouth had closed
And the wild world had come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem