“The Little Gray Bird”

The Little Gray Bird

Upon a dry and stony mountain lip
she builds her nest with misty, rocky view.
A wondrous song she sings: “tschrip, tschrip”
and then a hoarse “zru-zru-zru”!

Cinereous, he feeds on seeds of earth.
His mustache, painted yellow,  manly sighs.
She sits upon her triple eggs to birth
and with her partner’s heart, they lullaby.

But as the silver fox now takes her bill,
he flutters for a moment; his wings rent.
His struggle: fierce;  he wilts and will lay still.
“Tschrip, tschrip, zru”, thus she laments.

She looks to heaven; flutters her wings, too:
“Tschrip, tschrip, zru-zru-zru!”