Sitting quietly at a table in a corner bar
With his pride tarnished and a heart broken,
His mind seems to be gone away very far
But he is ready to release his words unspoken...
Covered by cigarette smokes in the air,
While a piano is being played in the background,
He lifts up his face full of tears...
Starting to write words without sounds...
He asks for a soft drink to the barmaid,
And concentrated writing a new poem
He realizes that for his wound, there's no band-aid
Since his life has taken a new form...
Suddenly, a flower girl stops by
Asking him to buy some flower
He felt like a bird that can no longer fly
One with broken wings and no power...
That bird was really me, indeed!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem