Her long black tail feathers and the somber color of its plumage
Gave me an impression of widowhood,
I try to listen her plea and it's sorrowful
The bird speak the language of human
But nobody understands.
'My innocent husband died in the poppy fields while searching food
A bomb dropped from the sky and I escaped and flew here,
Oh! It's a winter I forgot and I left my winter clothing at my husband's roost,
Don't know whether I could be friendly with the birds here? '
*Birds can be unite wherever they fly.
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-migratory-widow-bird-from-afghanistan/
