I am a lone crow, lost in stormy skies
Surrounded by that which I wish I could be.
But is it such a sin, that even in failing I try,
I’m sure you’d understand, if you were me.
Such grace and beauty, I falter for no reason.
Your qualities, I wish for, to be mine,
Talentless, a bird out of its own season,
I fumble along, I simply fly on blind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem