बिचरी चरी / Poor Little Bird

I wrote this poem when I was about eleven years old. I read it today, and found it quite good (at least for my sensibilities). Here it is for you:

बिचरी चरी

आहा कति राम्री स्यानी चरी
हाँस्छे खेल्छे सधैंभरि
चारा ख्वाउँछे बचेराहरूलाई
बरु आफू नखाई नखाई
जहिले पनि गाउँछे खेल्छे
दुःख सुख एक्लै झेल्छे
भुर्र उड्छे यता उति
चिं ! चिं ! स्वर मीठो कति ?

चरी एकदिन उड्दै जाँदा
एक शिकारीले गुलेली हान्दा
चरीलाई लाग्छ उनी खस्छिन्
रक्ताम्य हुँदै पक्लक्कै मर्छिन्
विचरा बचेराहरू विचरी चरी
कस्तो निष्ठुरी निर्मम शिकारी
कति राम्री थिइन स्यानी चरी
च्वँ ! च्वँ  ! च्वँ  ! कठैबरी !

English Translation Attempt:

Poor Little Bird

Wow, such a nice little bird.
Plays and laughs all the time.
Feeds her little baby birds,
without saying its all mine.
She sings and plays every time.
Be it rain or delightful shine.
There she goes, here and there.
Spreads around melodious rhyme.

One day when she was flying.
A killer shoots at her badly.
Full of blood she lies crying.
Sadly, she dies instantly.
Pity to her babies, pity to the poor bird.
What a ruthless  heartless killer!
So wonderful was the little bird,
terrible, I feel for the little bird.