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