There were beautiful black birds,
with fine feathers and fine wings.
They love to perch on my shoulder,
and it gave me a lasting fling.
The nights and days we spent together,
thou they have fallen down,
into the slope of rise-up never,
but they still live in my mind.
If I live a million years,
these pictures of my birds,
their faces and their voices,
would never fade from my head.
Even if to time or miles,
have I lost these birds of mine,
they have a place in my heart.
It was my pleasure from the start.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem