Green Bird

Early morning,

The green bird came to knock on my window.

Green bird, what are you doing here, at the place

Where the wild horse of my dreams is still running, unleashed?

My morning guardian is still asleep.

Green bird, oh, green bird, I almost asked her:

Green bird, what are you doing here?

At the place where people are dying, at this place where people are struggling to live,

At this place where there’s time to be chased

And work to be done,

And I’m still trying to collect the fractions of my thoughts from all corners of the room,

Green bird, this place is pure reality,

And what I need is concentration and not birds flying into my window,

With their feathers shining bright in this early morning light.

Green bird, oh, green bird,

So lucky you never asked us for permission to exist,

For permission to breathe,

Or to knock on my window.

Green bird.