The window and the sparrow*

Every morn, when I leave the window
Opened to the World outside,
A little sparrow would there arrive,
She would come and sit quite
On the pane , with delight,
Twittering as she would make,
From there sitting as the World would awake,

She would give me the news of the world,
Which tree outside had bloomed right,
How wonderous had been the previous night
What flowers had grown where,
What daisy had been taken by the air,

Which birch, had grown an inch its wood,
Which house in the neighbourhood
Had put its people to merriment,
Where to the young ballad singer
Of the town had been sent,
Which couple had gone to the tour,
Where from the serenade out poured,
Which kid had cried for a toy,
Where from arrived an artist coy,
Which deodar had turned to a nest ,
From which land a pigeon came to the attic,
to take from her long flight, a desirous rest,

Every morn, when the day would break
And light when coming through
From the window as opened,
Would keep me  to the world, awake,

A little sparrow with delight
Would on the pane, arrive,
She would make me to mornings dive,
Singing for me songs of days,
To keep me really amazed,

I would look at her restless hops,
How from the edge of the window,
She would before me, for a moment stop,

And sing how would she
Before me, so beautifully.

(*Note: loosely based upon the painting as attached; done by Adolf Von Menzel, courtesy : Alex Artista, Musica Pittura e Dintorni, )


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