The butterfly floats out of his cocoon in a form of rebirth,
He is bathed in the caressing light of the sun,
Once this creature was a worm,
Feeding on leaves and dirt,
Now he drinks nectar of the flowers,
Water made by light,
Are we not so different from the worm?
Striving to shape ourselves into a beauty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great metaphor.