À l’heure du tout à l’image et du buzz sans suite, «l’express» souhaite faire découvrir la plume de poètes, de chanteurs, d’écrivains et de tous ceux qui jettent leur âme sur le papier, et qui mettent en mots des réflexions profondes.

Little bird, little bird, why do you cry?

Such beautiful wings, painted in blue and purple shades,

you carry around.

Won’t you bother to give the wind a try?

Little bird wants to fly but is monopolized by its fear of heights.

Early bird gets the worm, the late one only squirms.

Cry not only for life’s curses, but for what might have been.

The vultures have been preying.

Surrender yourself to their lethal appeal.

Let them eat your guts and celebrate the pretty bait you make.

What a tragic waste, what a funny fate.

Little bird wishes it could flock amongst others of its

kind, wishes

that to the sorrows of time, it could turn a blind eye.

But your songs sound wrong and your beak is weak.

Birdie doesn’t know how to fit, but birdie knows how to

put up a fight.

Little bird, why do you cry?

Humans would pay to have you in a cage, but do you

really

belong in this crazy haze?

Pose pretty and chirp along for the eyes that lay on

you.

Feel the plastic pride of being part of the view.

Slowly realize all creatures dread the first flight.

Yet the sky belongs to those who try.

The world is cruel to the timid, but it has never

denied passage to

those who dare the air.

Birdie will learn:

the wind is gentler than fear.

Bio

Iniya Ayushi Padayachy Coopamah

An aspiring writer, she is fascinated by beauty, melancholy, and the fragile thoughts that often go unspoken.