OUR BIRDS

Here, in our land,
the birds are brown,
and their hearts are as tender as a woman's.
They are always elegant.
Strangers are always trying to steal their carpet,
but our wonderful birds
have broken their evil spell.
I am so glad that our birds still wear such bright colors,
despite all the nights of war.
They are neither lame nor ugly,
but the black wind always stands over the hill,
in the darkness like a thief.
But when the sun opens its eyes,
our birds kiss the lips of the branches,
smiling with passion.