BIRDSONG
Here in the city the birds are singing
as if they were at the beach or in the country.
They simply have no sense of propriety,
don’t even wear shirts or shoes.
Judging by their plumpness, their prayers have
been answered if they’re singing for their supper.
And where they sleep at night I do not
know, nor whether they have alarm clocks,
but every morning they do not fail
to greet the day in avian melody.
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