Her wings are broken, rain be-draggled,
I watch him hop, tap nerviously,
Though I want to take her,
And have him alight upon my arm,
She will not perch, and hops away;
Dangerously, across the tarmac,
And each step I take drives him,
Further into peril on my account,
So I walk away, she left to fate,
To the cruelties of iron, and her wit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem