With his wings split on the back
On each side one is hanging
Tips black
On his back, soft brown to grey
Chicks’ feather showing off
I’m a man
His face is bearded; head’s crowned
All in one he pulls it to shoulder
No neck left
She’s simple, virgin-like; a nymphet
Like young girl, hair not plucked
Innocent
She watches, jumps close as to beak
With her act sends her message
“Be my man”
It is spring
Off the branch
Sparrows on the grass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem