I want to fly away on the wings of time
To get rid of
my sorrows,
I am duped by my so called well-wishers,
The net of love cast by them
Has trapped me,
My whole being is fettered
My soul is pining for liberty.
But I am helpless as a poor bird,
Come what may
In the evening,
She returns to her nest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Initially it seems reminiscent of the Word of God...'And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness.' Yet while that seems similar, you feel you are the bird already, and only returning after each seeming escape, to the nest where you are burdened by vanity and sorrow. What a cry! How sad. Your well-wishers seem to be enemies spreading nets for your feet-only flatterers! La, hope I am not numbered among them, in that case.