Dans le flot libre des mots On voit parfois gazouiller Entre les failles Corindon, Hydre-Muse au sang impétueux D'impur taureau Mêlé à celui imparfait du pigeon, Chanter les défauts, les venins Et les vices de la gemme : Les vicissitudes du poème de rubis.
I brought a pigeon home today. Maybe she can be friends with my dove, If she ever meets him. I think she wants something, She's watching me right now. I can't tell what she's thinking, But with a spirit so free, And wings to take her wherever, I'm betting her thoughts are quite free too.
"Rock Dove" what ******* you're a pigeon a cloud rat a winged flea circus if cancer doesn't get you, a car wheel will you'll become a corpse to step over an inconvenience a meal for real rats but fear not, pigeon there is beauty in your death a collective relief that you're no longer here.
Standing on the roof of my house while the house sparrows
Chatter among themselves in their sweet frenzied way
Arguing over food, and space and all the other things that
Siblings squabble over
They flutter around and you pay no attention to them
But like Zarathustra on his hillside, you continue to call out
And demand answers with that strange rising intonation at the end
A rising arpeggio of riddles asking of me in the morning-
Who-who, who-who, who?
Inspired by a segment of the BBC program called Springwatch in which the hosts spoke about birds in poetry and the need to feature birds like house sparrows and wood pigeons in more poems. The poet writes about a wood pigeon that keeps waking him up early in the morning and how it always sounds like it is asking him a deep philosophical question.