The black bird sweetly tunes his throat.
A stream of liquid notes which float.
As if suspended somewhere
in between fact and fantasy.
Thus starts the morning symphony
The throstle warbles his reply,
the skylark joins in happily
from his position in the sky.
Each song bird now will raise its voice
in interweaving melody.
To demonstrate that they rejoice
because the morning brings release
from the terrors of the night.
Their morning chorus My delight.
27-Feb-08
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That is sweet Ivor, and a delight to read my friend. You poems are always a treat. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX