We knew that the plane was going to crash,
We plunged through the air, on high,
We probably had five minutes to grieve
A minute to say goodbye,
She clung to me from her window seat
And cried, ‘It's starting to fray.'
And through the port I could see the wing
As it tore, and twisted away.
‘Why did you make me take this flight? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem