Little moth fluttering around the light,
Burning his wings at every turn.
From the beginning it's a doomed flight,
She really doesn't want to burn.
Like Icarus flying too close to the sun,
The tiny little moth will tumble down.
This one sided battle will never be won,
Till she's lying helpless, dying on the ground.
8/6/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem