- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Bird Singer
Who sings those enchanting song
and wake the dormant boiling blood?
Their singing interrupt the silence,
and it seemed to me as if
they were singing, a welcome to the spring.
I opened my window
in the blue dawn,
listening those sounds
above my lawn.
And when the sun rose
and darkness disappeared,
I saw, on the fruit trees,
Magic plays its game
So gorgeous, with a drops of the rain.
The golden sun shines over the trees
And a little bird between their leaves
is still singing a song, on the light
And I know
That was a singer all that night.
© 2014 Dream Lover