Affixed they
to the martyred
butterfly
a needle through it
fixing it
on paper.
Trembled in pain
the fading
butterfly
three and half days
it stood so
paining.
Passed by the Poet Seer
and said:
'Shame!
But compared to my
fading pains
that suffering is joy.'
And
went the Poet Seer bent
under his sufferings,
away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem