a crow hopping from branch to branch
spreading her wings with mystical looks
so quiet but looking to where i'm standing
she is not trying to tell me weather today
flap her wings and made that familiar sound
calling her mate or warning others of my ball
i tried to concentrate erasing her picture
another came and looking at me casually
i tried to understand their moves and sounds
i'm not gifted to receive their magical thoughts
they remain a question that lingers in my mind
when they come close and look me in the eye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem