When I take a step forward,
Rightly rest on the thorns laid,
When I take a flight upward,
Strongly crushed to stay as ever,
When the targets are very visible,
What is the glass barrier in between?
When I dive in the ocean for the pearls,
What is that always suffocates me to float,
Beautiful wings of mine with the cues,
Persistently folded to be in the rue,
Sieving of the reality out of true,
Maddens me to be a bird on a bull,
Easy ride on the back, pecking is my job,
Who has glued my claws on the furry thorns?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem