A bird would fly above the frosted fields
with whispering wind beneath its winning wings
free from borders, ignoring warring shields
it flies across the rivers while it sings
the song of many languages that heals
petty divisions led by queens and kings
But troubles of a bird without a strain
are owing to the fact that it can fly
The pride of any bird becomes its bane
The sky is where the threats and dangers lie
We always lose from what we think we gain
So when our confidences go awry
our struggles and gratitude should still remain
The strongest beast would roam around its land
It roars and reigns its realm with no regrets
Its insolence invokes no reprimand
The rest concede and some behave like pets
They praise the beast because they understand
that their obedience is what fear begets
But troubles of a beast without a strain
are owing to its power to defy
The pride of any beast becomes its bane
Its solitude is where its dangers lie
We always lose from what we think we gain
So when our confidences go awry
our struggles and gratitude should still remain
The singer sings his songs with all his might
He tells his stories, charms the audience
When he expresses sorrow and delight
they feel his thoughts and his experience
And when he touches others with his plight
the world's affairs are of no consequence
The singer works so hard to entertain
the world that knows but never tells him why
The problems of a singer will remain
within his voice that sounds like warm July
We always lose from what we think we gain
So when our confidences go awry
our struggles and gratitude should still remain