The Lame Bird
Sitting on the wire she glooms and alone
‘Down forth’ all beckon,
‘Bits of bread are there
Pick up lest the other demands share’.
The lame bird flaps in the air
Rolling down from her breast a feather,
Pecking a bit with a sense
The escorts saving by defence.
A hunter hits like the lightning from the blue
None finds out yet its clue,
Concreted blood splitting and dog's spittle
Absence of delay makes her utmost brittle,
The barking dogs in the narrow city
Whose have with her no affinity,
All green leaves falling upon ground
That is for love beyond of bound,
Odium! Odium! to the merciless beings
The supreme creatures for whom so long she sings.
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