Like an eagle up in the air,

Magnificent, esteemed and rare

At the zenith of skies it soars

Hunters can never offend with sores.

People look up and admire its majesty,

Thus no one dared to disturb its serenity.

Like a playful butterfly in the field,

Often exploited, thus it yields,

Truly charming but its beauty is ridiculed

Of low regards because extremely usual

Which the teasing children playfully capture,

But after, leaving the poor butterfly enduring the torture.