The unchanging sky, a home as it flies
Wings of time, heavy with raindrops,
free of troubles, so they say,
full of content, so they say.
Eyes, folding, set straight, a stare.
They, the others pass by the face,
Set permanently there, unchanging, never-ending eyelids,
heavy with sadness, droop so low.
Drum-beats of the hear, silent, inconspicuous ears throbbing,
Woe, its prolonged existence.
Release from the never-ending grasp of the sky,
release from the chains of life, an airplane,
wished the aging bird once more,
To knock it down, and let it go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.