A butterfly
Arduously flies
From bough to a sprig
A broken wing enervates
Struggle for the life
Accidently tumbles
Beauty of the butterfly
Blows over the eye
Laid up and a cry
No way to classify
Jazzy beauty of its wings
And to perch on flowers
To suck nectar impalpably
It is called the butterfly
A worm with a wing
A hopeless life of sign
Not only up but down
A life of beauty is a Sin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem