think of the sparrow how the
nighttime withers in the face
of moonlight, it’s a missing kind
of hope that leads a lonely heart
to water, think of the flight of
the wind, the sparrows are
eating bread and holding court
of which I am a suspect, they
are taking flight and will be
eating bread in Stockholm, sip-
ping water from fountains in
the courtyards of Versailles
to have wings, my dear and
sit atop the towers, fly away
and perch upon an old tree
lonely with a hundred years
of bark, think of the sparrows
the ones that nest in my rafters
and how they are forced to share
in a young man’s sorrows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i.love.this. brother you're always inspiring