These bones are light to travel in,
Where men are wont to roam;
Far away from the birthing lands-
Though none remembers birth.
These bones the same, inside bird wings,
Though lighter those, and airy;
To lift one high, above tree lines-
Though few would climb, so daring.
These bones the home, for long as life
Sees fit to stay inside;
Closer than a mother was-
Or a blushing bride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem