A bicycle, I see submerged in watery mud;
Its spokes suffocating, waiting for a savior
What roads it must have taken? A victim to its traitorous master,
It is destined to lie in that swamp.
A slumbering relic of a past memory
It is now part of my memory. I carry its legacy.
A butterfly, I see delicately caressed by a rose
What delicacies it must have tasted? A servant to Mother Nature
The butterfly will soon be submerged
In a cocoon of death and rebirth,
Where it will continue its own legacy.
But the two aren’t very different, the butterfly and the bicycle.
For man and nature are of the same earth
Like the sun and moon,
are of the same milky-way.