On the window sill a bee with tattered wings was crawling along the woodwork, buzzing in a tired remote sort of way, as if she knew it wasn't any use, she was finished, she had flown too many missions and would never get back to the hive again.
Erle zirtzildu bat leiho-ertza kurritzen ari zen, zunburrun nekatu bat edo, zabalduz, alferrik zebilela, harenak egin zuela, misio gehiegi zituela beteak eta ez zela erlauntzara gehiago itzuliko etsita balego bezala.