Never have I hear a Blackbirds song so sweet.
Never have I had the ground unhinge beneath my feet,
Awaiting suspension between the plains of existence,
One as all the same.
Form, Un-form.
Cocoon born.
No one ever warned us that we would one day grow our wings.
Morning bird takes the child unheard shaken from his dreams
Movement in the herd portrays a portrait to which all's not as it seems.
Nestle to the pillow, Close your windows open dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem