Wind blown branches, white gold sky
hum an urgent lullaby
for a boy sitting on a window pane
looking outside, looking in.
(Watching the world watch him.)
A bluebird glides way up high
seeking a ray of light, unable to find.
'Worry us not, we've got time! ',
it whistles to a soundless sigh.
(Thin melody pierced by a slow beat of black night.)
Boy a poet of both worlds
heart gaged by raw words.
(Freebird bound by the curve of earth.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem