When I was a little child, I once found a bird lying on the ground. It would not ever fly again. I held the bird up in my hands, I shed my tears over the lovely song that not longer could be heard.
Never learn to fly.
With dirty hands I dug a hole and gently laid the bird to rest in soil: a wound in the tearstained mud. My tears wore rain as I revealed the secrets of a tree. A cross of bark to speak through wooden grains:
"never learn to fly"
I sang a song which I remembered my grandma used to sing for me, when I was sick and laid in bed. Then I cursed that day for showing me my own mortality for then I knew that all that lives turns cold. Cold and dead. And now time has passed by beneath my wings.
(Kristoffer Gildenlöw)
That was then I'm older now, but still I can't forget that rainy day. I raged against the ending times, though some day soon my son will maybe find the tree I cleansed of skin. No chain-sling will ever climb its rotten limbs. And when the time has come for me to die, I want to lie beside that bird.
Never learn to fly.
When I was a little child, I once found myself dying on the ground and now I'll never ...fly...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
