Like Wounded Birds

We are like wounded birds sometimes: in vain to soar in skies endeavor, –
And grow downhearted ever with disappointment in the eyes;      
We lack a feather in the cap, flaps of our wings are weak already
And, feeling fairly unsteady, are lost in fear of some traps.   
We shed the tears of frustration if are attained by the past: 
It is its way to come to us without one notification
To agitate our hearts and burn with irreplaceable losses…
Yet it’s destined that our life courses are attributed to a turn.
Experience is as a beast that likes to frighten our souls –
It makes unreachable thy goals when consciousness disturbed is.
Still what a yen there is to fly! To rise to the God’s pure heaven,
Provide your soul be over leavened with joy of amethyst-blue sky…
At will of Lord may wings be given…
 
Let the God’s hand be lent to them who aren’t discouraged …    
(Translated by Vyacheslav Chistyakov)

Со стихотворением "Мы все, как раненые птицы" (на русском языке)
можно ознакомится по ссылке http://www.proza.ru/2019/03/24/1709