Answer:
What is the freedom of birds and the pen of old men?
Two brothers we are, great burdens we bear. All day we are bitterly pressed. Yet this I will say, we are full all the day, and empty when go to rest.
White bird, featherless, flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand.
Although my cow is dead, I still beat herΒ What a racket she makes.
I am the greatest teacher out of them all, but alas in the end I kill my pupils.
I have two bodies joined together as one. When standing still I run and run.