Little black birds perched on
Telephone lines on high
Watching strange black birds
Walking, talking here below.
Little black birds perched on
Telephone lines on high,
Watching strange black birds
Building fruitless, barren nests here below.
Little black birds perched on
Telephone lines up so high,
Mockingly squawking at strange black birds here below.
Little black birds perched on
Telephone lines up so high,
With a bellyful of laughter
They take flight to gloat and squawk at other strange black birds grounded and bounded, hounded and pounded.
'Little black birds teach me to fly. Little black birds....' Sigh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem