Birds are books
I have a collection
Library is endless
Read them I, day and night
When I want or don't want.
I observe their coming and going
Fast, slow, in flight, jump, walking,
I sit, wait as do husks
(In desert, in the heat under dust)
Sufficient for kernel is a drop,
Just moisture, that is enough.
A wakeup, re-start, new life
The same is with birds, I.
Unlike us
(The so called human)
They have a standard
They have rules, they have laws
The females, males and the chicks
Have their place with colors,
They have marks.
Small chicks have whale's mouth, or hypo's
Inside red, out yellow
To today's feminists they may be patriarchs
What is sure is their love
They share life and work hard
Chicks come, go and couples
Live glued till they die
Modern gift of divorce is not theirs,
It is ours.
How I wish I was bird!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem