Of aerodynamics,
thermal currents,
or propulsion and gravity,
what does a bird know?
Precious little if not nought
and yet he flies.
Of confidence,
apprehension,
or of redundancy,
what does a bird care?
Precious little if not nought
for look he flies.
And so will I!
I will not cease from Mental Flight
for birds must fly
else why have wings
and I must write
or lose the fight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem