The butterfly flies in the sky. Don't know why.

Perhaps, cause there's wry, no tears to dry.

 

The butterfly might be shy, even so it can fly.

High in the sky there's no need to lie.

The butterfly is able to wave goodbye.

The pink one is mine, who draws my borderline.

In fact there fly two. The other one is blue.

 

It seems that down on the ground runs a rabbit.

In the very end it's just an ugly habit.

The diamonds are returned to the earth.

The butterfly enjoys singing of the birds.

 

When I met the butterfly at the first time,

it was a pure worm.

Since then it has got over many storms.

 

How beauty it has been come,

that's why the butterfly has fun.

 

No need to be jealous,

cause everyone has his heros.