Blackbird...

Stoppeth I, my winged dearth of time,
and thou shalt wait for eternity's sway...

Always the smile in heart hath haunted,
and my soul, quick caught its flying wings,
trapped in the palms, with no gate to leave,
the thoughts fluttered, and smile wept
in clutches of my childish act...

Stoppeth I, my winged dearth of time,
and thou shalt smile at my agony's grave,
for I refuse, say no to my distant enemy,
and friend over all this time.

Yes, yes, no more I say, no more,
no more in the years to come, I refuse to cry...

For who is that poet, that earthly soul,
that vagabond of roads, who wept while
time passed by...

Pain, the sweet respite for soul,
to rest, to ponder, to renew...

I stoppeth, the dearth of time,
my wings cut and bruised,
my forgotten cry, now in this emptiness,
I refuse to sit,
I in earnest, ponder,
I in zest, with broken wings,
like a Blackbird, try to fly...