When the world is tired of me
And I'm still alive and firm
Every bough of my grip
Will break like thunder has shattered it
Every of my footsteps will stick
Like I'm walking on a bayou
And this will equal make
Their booby traps.
Still strong at wings;
I will soar up the sky like an eagle
Drink in the hollows of trees
And leave their streams for them
When they are tired and weak;
I will pick them up
With my talons and dump them
Where they belong
There will lie the difference
Between men and boys
For the carapace I wear
Does not allow the acid of any venom
To bear through it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem