little men in all black suits
pace the parking-lots day and night
with scrawny legs and stick-like feet
piercing beady eyes and sharp black beaks
these men live so much freer than we
they scrounge for food and care not where - or what
building their homes out of dead leaves, scrap, and dirt
wandering like nomads, yet always found poking around in parking-lots
leaving black feathers on the wind, and cackling caws in our ears
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The title is a clever pun, No, it's an outrageous pun! You observed these birds very thoroughly and re-create their daily life with precise details. I was mislead by the description of their black attire and assumed they were crows. Of course, crows who share the same urban environment with pigeons strike many people as malign birds of bad fortune. Not the birds' fault! But pigeons deserve your good report and if they could understand, they'd be pleased with your gentle humor and fair treatment. The problem is - Now the crows expect you to the same for them!