The Bird

Though the evening comes with slow steps and has
signaled for all songs to cease
Though your companions have gone to their rest and
you are tired;
Though fear broods in the dark and the face of the sky
is veiled;
Yet, bird, O my bird, do not close your wings.

That is not the gloom of the leaves of the forest, that is
the sea swelling like a dark black smoke.
That is not the dance of the flowering Jasmine, that is
flashing foam.
Ah, where is the sunny green shore, where is your nest?
Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings.

The lone night lies along your path, the dawn sleeps
behind the shadowy hills.
The stars hold their breath counting the hours, the
feeble moon swims the deep night.
Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings.

There is no hope, no fear for you.
There is no word, no whisper, no cry.
There is no home, no bed of rest.
There is only your pair of wings and the pathless sky.
Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings.

Rabindranath Tagore

Lift Me Up, Marco Perico