Up in the heavens
Over this mortal plane...
Watch me glide with hovered wings.
I can feel the winds rush
Around this surreal fin
Of satin paper, wooden frame;
Lifting up my hollow skin.
Be my navigator.
The tides of the air restrict me.
Take my hand through the skies...
I can only fly by your gentle love strings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem