The dawn broke;
Shattered beyond repair,
The birds spoke;
Chirps of joy, cheeps of despair,
The fog rolled;
But there was no dice in sight,
The birds strolled;
They were in no mood for flight,
The fog sank;
Once gone, would it be mist?
The birds preened;
Making their sleek bodies list,
The wind blue;
Colour blind though it was,
The birds flew;
Who knows why?
Just... because.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem