Of all the songs I've heard it is the night bird that has the loneliest word
On the dark breeze does sail her tale with a mournful wail
From beneath the lees of a dead tree's leaves come her pleas
Cold eggs rest in a bare nest no longer warmed by a parent's breast
Her lifelong mate has met his fate now warming the dinner plate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem