The hawk, with all its grace and might,
glides and floats up in the sky;
Superior in his lonely flight,
views his kingdom from on high.
The sparrow, always in a flutter,
wings in a constant fervent flap!
Within the trees and branches' clutter
is content with Ma Nature's scrap.
Now, I could never glide or soar
to climb the clouds or reach for skies,
Me, I would never dare explore
my limits for a lofty prize.
Sparrows flutter in a tree.
They do remind myself of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Always in a flutter with the muse of nature. Nice work.