Misery and Comfort
On snow-frozen branches
the pink-breasted Cardinal
hasn't heeded the alarm,
and steadily shivering,
has lost warmth and feeling;
I stretch out left and right arm
and wrap him in a scarf of wool,
suddenly he feels no shivers!
Under my roof painted in white,
the House Sparrow is safe and cheerful
away from wind, sleet, frost, and snow:
her day visitations are delightful;
I heard them warbling near the cemetery,
they were arguing about where to go;
then they separated and all was quite:
the male was rude, the female sappy.
Birds and humans have feelings,
and we resemble them a lot;
a few seek misery, others comfort:
who has been one of these
and not felt the disparage,
or the absence of courage?
Can birds break down in tears,
and grieve until the hurt leaves?
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