With a fist full of daggers it descends upon its prey
Dropping like a meteor without the light of day
But no rocky harbinger, this bearer of last light
It's gift eternal night borne on the softest wing of flight
Envy, and wonder, consume the pondering breast
Was it oversight or blunder that left us so unblest
Since the point where first we leapt, we long have sought the wing
Yet clumsy sad contrivance is all that we can bring
'sif chitin brought to shiny curve, could match the kite its wing
Still our eyes reach skyward, as if prince had been king
Our reach forever past our grasp… we're left to pine and sing
Oh we can bring the night to those we deem worthy of rest
But soaring on the breath of life is not how we've been blest
But rest assured in this one thing we share with those of wing
Squawk, or screetch, or melody, we too, can laugh and sing
Breathe deep as though it be your last, and fill your soul with song
Then let fly with the breath of life… sing loudly, if not long
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem