I fly with a pair of broken wings,
From mum’s warm hug to a cold sea,
From naive to mature.
I believe I have known how to fly.
 
I fly with a pair of broken wings,
From babble to complete speech,
From misspelling to accurate language.
I believe I have known how to fly.
 
Now, I hit the ground miserably,
Because a tiny stone onslaught my wings.
I regret I didn’t fix my wings in advance.
I realize with a pair of broken wings,
Never can I really know how to fly.
 
Fortunately,
I am still a young bird,
I am still able to fix my wings,
And fly again.
 
And you,
My friends,
Have you fixed your wings?