Despair rides on the wings of an eagle
It travels to and fro
In all directions, it does fly
No one knows just where it will go
With keen eyes, it does see
The deepest, darkest place
Hidden from a soul on fire
Never to see its face
As the wailing and moaning
With each flap of its wing
Justice as distant as the forlorn sea
Why me, why me, the heart does sing?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem