For his wonderful collection of short, imaginative poems from world literature, called The Sea and the Honeycomb, Robert Bly rewrote Frances Desmore’s translation of a Chippewa poem.  And I think that it’s crucial to notice,  in these days of promoting esteem for a misconceived and egotistical “self,” that the poem’s last line does not read “I am flying”:

           Sometimes I walk about pitying myself,

           and all the time

           I am being carried on great winds across the sky.