wishing to clear the throat
clogged with much anguish,
the sadbird stretches the neck to look up to the sky,
he hits the surface of the water
flapping the wings to wet the beaks,
but these do not open his clogged throat as he wishes,
and for that; the unforgettable lost songs sit in the bosom
of the sadbird since long ago pile up high
as chilled blood that is unable to circulate
therefrom, the lost songs became lost forever;
thenceforth, the lost songs bereft of the recovery forevermore
allow me sing once again from the treetop,
let me sing gliding in the shimmering air once more
allow me to fly in the middle of high wind
once again to recall my lost songs; let me flap
the wings with the wings that pierced by the thunderbolt
to cry in the air once more
the bird merges into growing darkness,
the bird by the falling wall spitting out blood
is me, the sadbird lost a song