I fly as the crow flapping its pair of wing
carrying things that I don't wanna bring
the strong wind blows me fast in the evening
almost I fall down to the black ring
sky is getting dark, my view is no longer clear
it is raining hard, the crow sits on a strong twig
I'm still flying high, but my hope is no longer big
it is roughly dashed by the thunder I hear
my wings are fragile, not so strong as crow's
circumstances force me to take shelter
unlucky me! no chamber to enter
then I wonder why I ain't that river flows
oh light come to me!
I still want to continue my flight of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem