A Song Stolen From Time

 The broken winged wild bird is

Trying for one last song, again.

Sitting alone on a woody carcass left behind by an axe

Preening her unbroken wing.

And an arduous search for notes

Between thin staves of pain.

Cursed with the fate to sing it alone,

No mate or flock to sing it along.

 

Children who drank her warmth

Have long gone, pecking and pricking.

As the night flower blooms in hopes of seeing the twilight.

With light, songs and wind in her heart, not for anyone,

The broken winged wild bird is

Breathing slowly one last song, again.

 

To hear this song that shines in the dark

Trees, rain and night chill stood mourning, around

While the shadows, rivers and weeds kept the rhythm aground.

Even if no one is here, there are flowers and stars around to hear it,

Because the song is cheery as honey, kind as dreams

And tears to bear it.

 

The pain of her wing; so dry,  

Melts away in her one last song

As she embrace the vast sky

 In her flightless breast.

Singing along to the rhythm of her unhurt wing,

Sitting alone on the fresh tree stump,

The broken winged wild bird is

Reaching crescendo of its one last song.

ps: this is my translation of a malayalam poem (oru paattu pinneyum) by Sugathakumari