The soul is a little bird
That comes to perch, briefly,
Upon the branches of life.
And there—warbling—
It chirps and sings
Ever so happily,
Making the most of its stay.
And then, suddenly,
'Fore one could know—
The little bird
Has flown away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
and wither it goes.....who is to say