The Thrush Song

Hush the winds, the thrush has spoken.

His sweet song came hurling down like torrents and waves,

The light floods the window and melts the iron bars,

So long has the prisoner called out in horrendous groans,

Love is my token and I bear it where I may,

When I hear the songs in moments: images unseen,

Imagine spaces behind locked doors.

The rushing flood breaks the main gates,

Lo! The containers of the mind unleashed,

A ruthless hound makes off to the hunt,

“Following the river of love,” says the porter,

“is the most rewarding journey.” Lit by light,

He says: “Come, warrior, like a thief in the night,

Make your way, with honor, to paradise,

Die! Like the man you are.

Courage! Lest they catch you sleeping.”

Bodies are sent fresh to the dungeon daily,

Beautiful are the shades of rose,

Lovely are the blossoms that shoot from the grass,

Growth, in time, makes all things joyful.

Vengeance is sharp and stings,

The axe hews and hacks in the springtime meadow,

Blood flows from fountains and frothing foam from mouths,

Merry smiles and bright faces are at the delight of death,

He goes on, whistling: “Love in my heart is worth more

Than pennies in my pocket. Dying is better than defeat.”

If the tree falls, new plants will rise.

A full heart pours out red warmth and gems,

Sparkling rivers from the heart flow into the meadow,

That sweet taste is uncontainable and magisterial,

Searching for the endless supply: the ultimate, the mega.

This is that good that makes your bones shake,

You bellow like a bull,

Your mind cage rattles,

White eyes on spikes strained two hearts,

Lovers become locked in chains!

But what better a prison than the one of love?

You are beautiful, my sweet child.

Two birds became one:

“Come under my wing and fly east,

We’ll forget our pain

And watch the stars melt

Like wax from the prison house.


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