Sing little bird, I knew you first.
Your words so gentle; fell
and settled to cast a shadow
one night upon my window sill.
To each, their own; it is said,
in this I did not deny you;
but in faint light to my bed
you came with twilight's dew.
Between a crook you stayed;
wove a nest of fallen feather
and sang a song longingly
for southern land's warmer weather.
In that winter I studied you,
both wing, nape and breast.
And in my hand I preserved you;
onto which your lore came to rest.
But, in time, winter waned
as spring leapt from seed
and your heart took to sky;
too high for me to reach.
From sky you found a perch
to rest your crown against his cheek.
As your seasons passed to mirth
thier songs echoed through the trees.
Till one day, through frosted glass
I saw you; asleep upon the leaves
and in my heart I mourned you
as no other knew you like me.
My heart feels heavy after reading this...as if i lost someone close to me... beautifully composed poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Much wisdom in little birds