A crow perched on my chest, as I rested.
It had a note at its beak.
And another knot by its wing
I was glad at the feat.
Then I saw the ribbon.
Neatly on its neck,
Like a butler to his master
It cawed as he would bow
The note landed in my face, breaking vision.
Extravagantly scented though.
I wiped it off my face and woke
The scent lingering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem