A puny crow, swimming in malice,
to see a beautiful swan in the moon-lit orchard,
took flight to the clouds, marching in the sky,
and pleaded for a white dress.
they, jolted and befuddled at its wish, said,
"O babe! Innocent and naive to life,
we are not the heavenly power for bliss
nor assume any form to have an upper hand;
we are only mist that, at His behest,
fetches remedy for wounds of nature
and necessities of humans."
the crow, with a negative thought,
changed the course to the snow.
for some couples of minutes it flew
and reached the hill
where he was soundly sleeping.
with its beak, exited and full of passion,
pricked him and began:
" O snow, blessed and contented,
you deck out the mountains and fields;
this, a little bird, beseech you to cover it
till his last dance on the tree.
a sparkling smile beamed on his face,
and he, in a sombre tone, replied,
" O my friend! I melt little by little to nothingness!
Do you want me on your skin that is like ours?
Listen! Life is a serious tale,
entangled in plots of fate,
and we have to bow,
and this is worship of the Almighty.
you, man and me are the clouds
that are unreal but full of splendour."
the crow, unable to chew the puzzle,
and incapable to take the proper decision,
dived into the deep valley.