تحليق

For witches, there are their spells,

And I have mine,

For women, there are their tales,

And I have mine,

For evenings, there are their pains,

And I have mine,

For butterflies, there are wings

That I do not have;

Colorful,

I do not have their like,

Transparent,

I do not have their like

The butterfly;

They have trained her to fly;

So she flew over the awakening of saffron,

And landed on the slumber of roses,

And they did not train me to crawl

Except on the suspicion of the guards standing

On the ice of my chains

The butterfly weaves the warmth of her relationships with flowers,

And I weave my cold

The relationships she hung -in secret-

On the fear of the night of suspicions;

So I wounded my cheek

The butterfly did not hide her secret

For the butterfly, she has her companions

I do not have their like,

And she has a pair of wings

I wish I had their like

I wish, oh butterfly,

I were the butterfly;

So that I could soar above the wounds of women,

And their tears

For women, there are their precautions,

And I have mine.