My birds are my salvation and my curse,
Though in their hooded state they can not to see,
Since living day to day, in their forms diverse,
They think upon themseves and not on me.
For in truth they save me from despairing,
As in their silent company I grow,
Gaining strength as they, their wings repairing,
Become the angels that I used to know.
Yet as children spoilt by my daily care,
They themselves become the binding tie
Which stops me taking to the open air,
In which my hopeful happiness may lie.
Sometimes I wish my falcons would away,
But then I would resent the dawning day.
(CBB Aug 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem