It's the majestic manipulation of manifested feathers,
somehow created for organisms to evolve into fowl.
What happened down the line that determined this distinction?
Did He ever pause to ponder if I wanted wings?
If I wanted to fly to Florida or Mexico for winter?
And then casually cruise to Canada in the summer months?
By the Gods, what I wouldn't do for a set of wings;
say goodbye to traffic as well as stupid planes;
no more dizzying ups and downs on those elevator trains;
in retrospect, I thank my bulky brain for staying sane!
And in the thought, I'd glide gracefully above the streets,
Perhaps pearch upon a pedestal and beg for something sweet,
Get my nibble here and there and peck at people's feet,
But if I were to peck and nibble I'd also need a beak...
And what's a birds beak without down and feather?
I'd also need those in order to withstand the weather.
Now what are these - toes? ! Birds feet are better.
Ah, there we go... to mental eye, a great pleasure.
Dare a man not dream a dream in dire need of a respite?
For anyone can wish the world and be lucky to turn up earth.
I, myself, would sooner become a boundless bird,
Not necessarily because I like birds...no - it's just the wings I like;
but instead of human with wings, I'd be an angel. And I am no angel.
I am simply a man trying to escape being man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem