It has stopped in the middle
of the sky to sing.
Dazzled, blinded
by the flaming pupil
of the sun,
it sobs harmonies of azure.
It can rise no further:
in the impetus of flight
its little wings are caught
in the net
of its sublime song.
It has stopped in the middle
of the sky to sing.
Dazzled, blinded
by the flaming pupil
of the sun,
it sobs harmonies of azure.
It can rise no further:
in the impetus of flight
its little wings are caught
in the net
of its sublime song.
