A pair of crows noisily cawed their agony, agitated
Over a small lump splattered on the pavement.
Angrily darting at passersby,
Bemoaning the loss of a young un,
Who fell out of the bare nest,
A day before it could hatch.
The dusty pavement now stained,
With red-hued life ebbing,
Before it saw the world.
A hasty grave, the crows made,
Toppling over the empty nest,
For a life that could not be!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How many times do we see this chapter in our life? Once is too many for some.