(The birds)
Some songs are familiar, the sort
Of chirp we've heard before
Others sound like a crazy jungle
Hooting its happiness with the day
There are birds who peep
An unbreakable chain in mechanical code
Others have no pattern at all,
Their discourse is improvisatory
And there are the muttering birds
Who say the same thing always
Moi-je, moi-je -
Like a motor that never quite starts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem