There is a young crow,
soaring with a flock of pigeons,
flying from its sorrows,
far away from its prison.

There is a young crow,
No boundaries to fly,
yet he wanders in silence,
across the gloomy sky,
for his pigeons,
they die.

There is a young crow,
flying low, feeling unsure,
astonished and in disbelief,
left alone and insecure,
Becauseause he never wanted,
To leave.

The heavy rain, there is no stopping it,
Looking grim and messy,
But while the furries are prepared,
Then there's me, shivering.

I wore my linen clothes, too thin,
I laid on the floor, too cold,
But I'm not going anywhere,
Because the heavy rain will stop,
Eventually.