After months of pain
After months of suffering
And chill of solitude
I want to hear song.
Soothe.
Soothe this turbidity
Relative.
Soothe, I pray.
For it now be light, more light and May.
In May of yesteryear you were yet a Bird of Song
And therefore why not sing this May?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem