Where are rocks
In-around the village of my birth
brown are the mountains
their colours range in shades
light to dark, and darker
In gorges, in valleys and the hills
crawl some, walk and run; fly some
wilderness
grow bush, flowers
and echo of a call is “ooo-hooy”.
Fly hawks and eagles…
they have zones for landing
freely, on their choice
Here but…
in city with the lights all around
hawks and gulls and pigeons
most of birds
forcibly choose lamp posts for landing.
I grieve:
“My dear prisoners I feel you totally.”
I tell them: “you have my sympathy.”
I sure do empathize.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem