My bird is up and singing at 4am.
Long before the sun, my bird has arisen…
His song heard from the high trees across the way.
How can you mind this expression of living…
This appreciation of life?
There are worse ways to be awoken,
Than with a song, a melody,
A celebration of Life, of Love.
By first light, my bird has encouraged a chorus…
Avian varieties of birdsong, each unique;
Overlapping refrains of "Good Morning",
Each greeting the new day dawning.
I open a door, and look out upon the Spring…
The green, leafy woods.
Elsewhere in the world, there will be dark,
And there are places where birdsong is not heard.
But, my bird sings…
And, by listening…
I have more options today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem