I caught a little black butterfly,
I kept it in a jar.
I carried it with me
Where I went, near and far.
It listened to my problems,
My sorrows and my grief;
It kept me from self-destruction,
It brought me sweet relief.
My butterfly became my best friend,
My whole world in a jar,
So I had no need for real friends
For they all seemed under par.
Eventually, my butterfly withered
Fro the pressure of my sighs,
So much I believed it began to hate me,
And it shriveled up and died.
I wept and sobbed for days upon days-
Nothing could tame my tears-
For my black butterfly listened to me cry
And fluttered away all of my fears.
I mourned for my little black butterfly,
For it was so much more-
It was my friend, my family,
My confidante, and my haven-
Which is dead, but not lost.
My little black butterfly is gone,
But it still remains,
Fluttering on,
In my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear...This is one fantastic poem. The flow and rhyme is really good.