Looking out some window
at some random flying birds,
I start to think
how great it would be
to be one of them,
to be free,
to roam the sky
by day and by night.
While I kept on looking and wishing,
it hit me right on the face:
they did not wish to be me.
Maybe, that's the one thing
I thought,
that set those birds free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem