There was a song
such a beautiful one
that we danced to
when we were young,
but now we are older
we listen to the gentle nightingale
that way I see you as young

If happiness is all about gaining
Why on earth the nightingale laments
on the red, red rose blossoming?  

The answer doesn't lurk  
inside the computer's silicon chip.
The man gives mind to technology
it doesn't know how to cry!
But a human mind does whether
that is rich or poor it does a mater.

Nightbird perches high
beneath the shooting stars
that dapple the bouquet
    of sleepless peace
... his soft downy breast      
    has lent breath
to the sweet April afterglow
     heaving with song

The mystical feathered troubadour's
     swooning echo
A melodic twilight serenade
conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis,
sprouting magical wings of flight;
rousing a lonely heart's esprit
     to fly away unfettered
     in constellations of song

How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper
enchant such an enrapturing magic spell?
It's so far to fall from swinging on a star!
It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon
     when you wish upon a star  

Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight;
Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!

    Rolling like trailing thunder;
        tucked and tumbling ―
             somersaulting,

           celestial rumbling
blossoming with an unearthly joy

A nascent winged heart splayed bare,
soars upon cresting wind waves;
    dreaming of that shapeless  
          w h o  o  o  o  s h ―
         gathering beneath
        ~ uplifting wings ~

  Suddenly ― gliding freely,
       winging gracefully
  upon wafting star drift glitter;
lilting lightly upon the arising cadence
of nightingale's melodious fluted song

Nightingale sings sweet April perfume
beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle

... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream
    if my heart had wings


imagined by:   Jesse Stillwater

Bird beneath the midnight sky
As on my lonely couch I lie,
I hear thee singing in the dark,
Why sing not I?

No star-gleams meet thy wakeful eye;
No fond mate answers to thy cry;
No other voice, through all the dark,
Makes sweet reply.

Yet never sky-lark soaring high
Where sun-lit clouds rejoicing lie,
Sang as thou singest in the dark,
Not mute as I!

O lone, sweet spirit! tell me why
So far thy ringing love-notes fly,
While other birds, hushed by the dark,
Are mute as I?

No prophecy of morn is nigh;
Yet as the somber hours glide by,
Bravely thou singest in the dark
Why sing not I?





በምሽት



እንዳንድ ወፍ እንዳለች ታች ከለሊቱ ሰማይ፣

ጋደም እንዳለኩ ለብቻዬ አልጋ ዬ ላይ

ጥኡመ ዜማ ስታወርጂ አሰማልሁ

‹‹ እኔስ ለምን አልዘምርም ?” እላለሁ፡፡



የትኛውም ኮከብ በነፀብራቁ ቢልቅ፣

ያንቸን ንቁ ዓይን አያስንቅ!

ግና ለጥሪሽ ምነው ቅርብ ጓደኛ

ምላሸ አይሰጥሽ ?

ሌላም ድምፅ፣ በዚ የለሊቱ ግርማ፣

የሚጥም ምላሻዊ ዜማ አያሰማ!



ድርጭት እንኳ እስከላይ በእጅጉ መጥቃ

ተጋድምው፣ ፀሐይ በፍንደቃ የሚሞቁ ደመናዎች

እስተሚስተዋሉብት ድረስ ዘልቃ፣ ስታበቃ፣

እንደዚያ እስከላይ ሄዳ፣

እንደኔ ሳትሆን ለመዝሙር ዲዳ፣

አንቺ በድቅድቅ እንደምታወርጂው ዜማ

ከቶ አታሰማ!



ብቸኛዋ ነፍስ ንገሪኝ

ያንቺ ፍቅር የተጫነበት ዜማ፣

እስከአሁን በመቀጠል የሚሰማ!

ደሞም ምነው ሌሌች ወፎች

በጨለማው ዝማም ተሸብበው

የሆኑት ዲዳ፣ በመደዳ!



የማለዳ ብስራተ በሌለበት

ሠአቱ ለመሄድ ዳተኛ በሆነበት

ትዘምሪያለሸ በድፍረት!



በሞትኩት፣ ለምንድነው

እኔ እንዳንቺ ያልሆነኩት? //

(ጁሊያ ካሎሪን)

I'd like to be
a nightingale.

Nightingales sing
the beauty of the night,
the moon, the stars,
and the starry light.

Unlike a man.
Man sleeps at night,
only snores to the stars,
only gasps to the moon,
hate its bright light.

He needs to wake up at dawn
and wash his face
and hurry up,
and chase the bus,
do things he hates.

That's why
I want to be a nightingale.
In fact, I am.