a sad song

i could not believe it;
i passed the fig tree;
the little bird whistled at me;
the scattered and tartered melody opened my mouth;

it was a man singing;
the song of pain and sadness;
i asked what good does it feel to sing;
but he said mumbling if i could turn;
go back to my mother's womb;

life is less of agony and melancholy;
my ladida of life has shrinked;
my longing to see tommorow slipped;
i wish i can run and never come back;
for life is a mystery to experience death.