Sitting ghostlike in my bedroom;
hearing birdsong in the night.
Cigarette ember glowing brightly
as I suck the poison in.
from the window
I see the Blackbird
sitting, singing, in the tree.
Deluded by the neon streetlight,
convinced that in the electric dawn
he'll be the one to catch the worm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem