It takes four ears to tune to the impatient bird
Which needs to waken up, alone and anxious,
Between transparent trees and blinded eyes of murk,
Within its little throat, and sing of waking.
Its song is quavering from blessing to lament,
Because it takes four eyes to see the colors,
It takes a voice and echo to create the space,
It takes four ears for tuning in the silence.
And that is why again, alone, it wakens up --
The bird which sings within the blinded colors --
And wakes me up, in sweat, within the empty night,
Within my throat, to say your name in darkness.