i have written
poems in the form and life
of pigeons, and having created
them, i befriended them here
hoping that the make the music of
coo and stay here for good,
but life is not that exactly as
planned,
the creator has no control of
its creations and so they have
used the power of their given
wings and they had just flown away,
and what you have here in these
letters are their droppings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem