The Broken Wing Poem by Taraneh Javanbakht

The color of its wing is the sign
of freedom. Flew in the paradise
with other emigrants, in my long
reflection the wild pretty swan.
It was a captive for the bad hunters.
Its wing was bloody, it hurt by an
arrow, the sad broken wing. Groaning
of the pain, it fell in a vast lake. It
rained intensely. The tears of the sad
sky kissed its bloody sore. The swan
is in fact the nice country of pride.
I dream its flight again in the sky.