Away they go two thousand kilometres,
To a large pasture of barley,
With their bills they plough and toil,
Like torque does to engine,
Leaves are projected into straws.
In their hundreds they return home,
Carrying what their bills could lead,
Singing or mourning certainly about the hostility,
They may face in the hotbed.
Without hammer or helix,
They hold twigs, twine and tangle to
Carefully knit a straw against the other.
No quarrel, nor question, nor objection,
Two days efforts are enough - objects,
Like strawberries are constructed.
Lord! Which creature is wiser?
Man with strength or bird with perseverance?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem