My plant weeps with me;
a drop splashes on my head.
I, like a bird shot from the sky,
lying here in the darkness.
I will never understand the strange,
unfortunate occurrences of everyday life
or why they make me shrivel up inside
like this broken-winged bird which cannot fly.
Crippled wings can mend and wounded birds can fly again,
I, waiting here in the darkness for the wind.