Today when I was
sitting near my balcony
having a sip of tea
alongwith glance
at Newspaper,
an injured bird
out of the blue
fallen in my feet,
profused blood
incessantly flowing
from her wings.
I could feel the pain of her
but expression was too lively
of her broken wings
and injured feet
she was trying to fly
by putting her full energy,
though she died, but
it was not mere a death,
she fought like a warrior
with a desire to win.
I salute her for a thought.
Yes! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Life is fruitful,
if we live for success
and never give up
till our last breath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your point is well taken. The poem with the bird illustrates it well, very well indeed! (ps: In my opininon, the piece will stand better as a poem if you omit the last few lines, maybe after 'warrior'. For the story of the bird speaks for itself.)