Nowhere to Fly*

Nowhere to Fly

 

-Clinging to a Reed-

 

-P-

 

The evening air is cruel tonight;

A frost lies on the grass,

 

A gibbous moon peeps on the path,

As my slow footsteps pass

 

A true farewell is kept within,

As leaving is a mix of wounded words

And broken bonds arriving cannot fix

 

A dog is barking in the woods;

The stars are small and gray,

And though they shine,

They seem to shrink,

 

And would no longer stay.[1]

 

A thrush is clinging to a reed;

She has nowhere to fly,

 

And I am turning from her gaze -

I cannot say goodbye.