The Robin

 

‘There it is, the little Robin

on the bare grey branch

fluttering its wings.

A joyful note of life

in the chilling fire of winter

which reveals the mountain-tops untrodden,

outside thought and visions.

‘…’

There it is again, the joyous Robin.

But it seems in vain that I should try hard

to throw down the walls of its prison,

to see those depths of its life

which truly deserves a name

outside the darkness of anonymous likeness.

‘…’

It sharpens its beak on the ageing wood.

I look it in the eye, in silence,

resurrecting for the sake of my own soul

that way of looking long blinded. …’

RedbreastDE_292

From the poem ‘The Robin’, by Ioanna Moutsopoulou

Cycle III: Faces of Life

To read the whole poem, please, click here to order the poetry collection ‘Souls of Nature’
and check on the availability of the book.

(Photograph by wikipedia)