Winter and my love are gone
a blackbird on my roof
her fauces moving, her beak
trembling as whispering to herself.

She listens: from the faraway tree
like a knock of rocks together
a bonfire of longing, so loud
so clear and so very terrifying...
The blackbird with a cry
dives into the spring waves
so full of wildness I can hardly
endure: winter and my love have gone.

M. Vasalis (1909-1998)