Each day as a prisoner
I see birds in the yard
Free to fly south to warmth
Or north if they please
Each day as a prisoner
I know your love may be
Hiding in tangled sheets
But I gave up searching
And each day as a prisoner
I long to trade my cell
For a ship
Sail on the speckled sea
Taste a cool, salty mist
That hits my skin
Just to rise again
And if you call my name
I will know I am free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this poem. The human feeling of a soul in the prison of the body and our short life on earth. The methaphor of the birds free to go anywhere. But are they realy free? No, but I like to think that./ :) gg