Free is the sky and free the heart
that pounds inside a dark, grey chest,
free is the raven, free and smart,
graced with pow’r and with wisdom blessed.
Freedom the only joy of life
endures the times of war and strife.
When Odin drank the honeyed blood
and sought a secret knowledge great,
perhaps he froze perplexed and awed
to see the phantom queen of late
soar high above the warring men—
a Morrigan, a Crow again.
In such dual signs and meanings
lie embedded the strength of art
and we have the best of innings
each time we stoop to think with heart,
for truth lies deep embedded in
the folds of being bright and thin.
So, like the Norse and Irish too,
(each nation has its own dear bird)
we have a Crow in Kathmandu
sweetest bird that ever was heard,
for when it caws our ears will hear
good news from this messenger dear.
And in the past when Rama’s feet
the Crow did peck and make him bleed,
chased by the wrathful arrow, it
still was free to return and plead
for divine mercy, sweetest mead
of love, ‘twas forgiven indeed.
As Bhusundi, sagacious Crow,
effulgent with Lord Rama’s glow,
it teaches us in love to grow,
in love towards others to flow.
For form is glitter, self is pure
and Love is Lord of Crows, for sure!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for this message of love that is so essential for the mankind to sustain and flourish in these hostile environs. You have done well to link it with mythology.
Thank you.