We are all here
and we find no exit.
Where to go,
inquired little pigeon,
And I put not
any more question.
Golden oriole came
at this time and said
in clapping hands, O
Are you not mine!
Tumbler, come here my dear,
with your warbling
and let me open the sky
said at last butterfly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem