The blue bird

Trees, branches… fly !
Not away but towards the sky
Leave the green grasses and
dry shrubs and fly my blue bird.
The rising sun rings its bell
And the branches bow down
To the sound of the majestic bell,
Making every hill plain and
brightening every dim light.

Fly high my blue bird
Into the nest of the pear tree
Which has been made, already into
a safe haven away from the fire at
noon day and the predator at night for
the branches are held hand in hand across
a street, a shield to for our nestlings

fly my blue bird
gird your loins with strength
and fly quick for the pear fruit lie ripe
and desolate only for the bats and crows.
Fly quick my blue bird
For the scorching sun will last for long,
And I wait as your nest lie without warmth.