'On a windy day
At some seaside,
I saw a black kite
trying to fly against the wind
in vain;
She was ever
Where she had been the last minute,
Which's what my life's been.'
'Yours' is better than mine;
Mine's a butterfly
Struggling to fly gainst,
Only to be pushed back
And pushed back
Ever.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem