and there it was on my roof again
mimicking the sound of the dreamer
it is singing the songs of fantasy
and sleepy
it forgets itself and becomes the dreamer
someone who was awake throughout the night
does not believe in dreams and fantasies
notices the difference between its voice and the dream song
gently he speaks of a homage
to a voice whose mouth had long been silenced
whose tongue was cut & thrown away
whose letters of his name was carved in stone
the mocking bird knows the difference
and then it turns its beak into utter silence
and then it flies away wanting to cut its wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem