The bird was singing
But then stopped
Singing
For
Signing had
Made him wise
And also the suffering
Of his captivity relative
He suffered but
He enriched in
Experience.
Thought came over him
As a cloud
And the though percentage
So came nigh hundred
Per cent
[though never reaching it]
He sang a minimum
Percentage
A little here and there
The rest thoughtful he
Lay
Became philosopher
And reduced his singing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem