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. …’


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’
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(Photograph by wikipedia)