While the bird sits in hazards beside the pond water,
I forget to take it as a real bird, and it seems to me
it is a fake or toy bird. And I look at it if it can bring
my loved one amidst so many well conversed minds around
the hilarious sediments, hard to find real one.
I cannot be lucky one to have one such real loving
and colorful bird to appear in my defense to save me being falling
from lost love that I am pertaining so many years to live in,
yet to feel it in my body and mind. It is like ominous jolt in my life.
And I am living so many years in fruitless sincerity of my loved one
who is now a pilgrimage to become sediment of nothingness,
can easily discard me as abandoned one.
Even I cannot detect my faults in light of my long-term loved eyes.
Still pond-water gathers weeds; its vicinity gathers garbage.
This unknown bird sitting coolly there surely has some visions
for next flying with love that may not suit me.
Oh lo and behold, exigencies sometimes required in dream.