The pigeon's church
is the church's eaves,
And all their sermons
the talking leaves;
They do not worry
for trouble or sin,
Or when their tiny
world must end.
The pigeon's church
is full of birds,
And all their talk
is coo-ing words;
To each his own,
to each his place:
Out of the whole
wide world, one space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
if only we were as wise as pigeons! good one.