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The birds understand us, it’s true,
They understand us better than men,
Observe the grey heron when it is afraid,
listen to the Robin
Who asks to play with you,
Go for the lint
She doesn’t want any wrong notes,
The birds understand us,
The thief has always known you,
She knows how far to go,
They understand us better than our ministers,
Better than the gendarmes to guard you,
They understand us better than the bakers
too busy making croissants in the morning,
The birds understand us,
listen to the duck, who chooses beautiful oranges,
listen to the Blackbird,
who whistles when you are depressed,
When you think of Martine or Marie Noëlle,
listen to these dear birds,
They interfere with what you think,
They are wary of alley cats, domestic cats
They are suspicious of everything, of the time that passes slowly,
They guess your dreams, your fantasies,
They have nothing to lose by watching you,
Let them speak to you of God, of Bonaparte,
The idea of lying never crosses their mind,
They understand you better than psychiatrists,
They know what you think,
let them, they have a thousand things to say
Let them sing the coming of spring.

NB When I go for a walk a little before dawn, the singing of birds is like a medicine, it gets rid of the physical and moral heaviness, due to sleep.

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