Her long black tail feathers and the somber color of its plumage
Gave me an impression of widowhood,
I try to listen her plea and it's sorrowful
The bird speak the language of human
But nobody understands.
'My innocent husband died in the poppy fields while searching food
A bomb dropped from the sky and I escaped and flew here,
Oh! It's a winter I forgot and I left my winter clothing at my husband's roost,
Don't know whether I could be friendly with the birds here? '
*Birds can be unite wherever they fly.
Your widow bird is one of your best poetic creations. Lovely write with an appealing message as well. Friends always, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You share your winged widow's weeds with skill and originality, Nimal. There is a gentleness about your story-telling that underpins this salutary tale of belonging. Excellent poem. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥