Seldom does my faint gaze linger on a particular matter,
nor do I indulge in the least of my gracious vanity.
I saw two birds,
not so high, not so far,
and in my gentle manner of observation, I wondered.
Race you to the river bank,
I thought I heard the other bird say.
My mind wanders back
to when Nature was in a good humor.
Oh, I followed her from behind,
racing wherever she pleased we would go.
Sweet, sweet was the breeze that hit my face.
Oh, to behold her hair dancing before me!
Sweet, the scent of her hair,
mixed with the sweat that trickled down her neck.
Reaching to touch her hair,
and her face, mixed with smiles and tears.
"Wisdom," she called, I hear.
A hum was the familiar sound that followed—
not from her, but from within.
The shock on my face at why she was smiling;
the beat of the drums my heart could pound.
Was it the way I looked at her?
Was it the way I traced her neck?
"What could it be?" I remember I said.
Race me again, I heard her say.
Fly, oh birdies.
I had my time to fly like you.
The smell of her scent I still perceive,
alone, without her by my side.