A blaze of heat and the wings tear apart
About the falling youth, whose skin turns pale
From melted wax, flaw in the craftsman's art;
Shed of plumage his bare arms start to flail.
How can the horrified boy escape the fate
Of a relentless plunge into the dark blue sea?
And how can the father, hearing his cry too late
But feel anguish as he watches helplessly?
A splintering of bones sets free the lad,
And the waves carry the lifeless form ashore
Where guilt drives the grief struck parent mad;
Because of his art, he has a son no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem