The finest sound
from the finest song
to man it doesn't belong
rather to a wild bird its from
attending a prom
with no date but hate
for its captor
without freedom a promise
he will miss
his mrs
and if his heart
grows fonder
he will fold his wings
and never sing
and for him its a win.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem