Birds are Alive

When I was young, I chased birds day and night.
I looked up at trees and wandered through fields to find them.
That passion lives fully in a corner of my heart.
Birds were my friends.
They were my lovers for a long time.
They were the faith that breathed blue vitality into my free soul.

I tried to catch a bird that never came to my hand,
Countless times but failed.
That was the bird that built its home and fed its young,
The bird that lived like a king in the middle of the sky and earth.

To the bird, I was a dangerous beast,
But to me, the bird was an immortal soul and a magnificent dream.

Birds have their own personalities.
Each bird flaps its wings differently.
They sing with their unique voices.
They meticulously choose their housing lot and build the house geometrically.
They are experts in raising their young and brave soldiers.
They are faithful fathers and mothers who build their homes with trust and love.
When the time comes, they proudly let their children go.

Birds always live in places higher than humans.
They greet the morning and welcome spring before humans.
They live closer to trees than humans.
Loving birds is like loving stars.
I don't know how to love birds.
But those birds all live in my heart.
My life is a long journey to find birds.
Sometimes I close my eyes and look far away,
Because I want to apologise to the birds.
The birds never entrusted themselves to me.
They were never tamed by my touch.
Like the birds, dreams and love cannot be tamed.
The dream and poems that have never entrusted themselves to me resemble the birds.