The Song About a Bird

Nathan Sach

Unofficial translation: Hagar Kadima

A.
Well, how should I begin. I know
the song. It's familiar. In the evening, at the doorstep of
my home, while I look at the mountains, there comes
the light breeze and moves the Linden tree's branches. West wind brings back
my happy years while I walk forward
pale faced but with fiery eyes
on the paths of my courageous homeland. Strongly
echoed is the sound of many waters in the distance, never-resting streams
and rivers. I am looking at my blighted hands,
at my hardened nails. And never ever would I like to replace
this world of yours
with the best of all worlds.

B.
Oh, Please Sir. Are you begging me. To sing
the song again? She has flown away, has spread
its wings and she is not coming back. One moment, Sir. Indeed, I still
remember the color of it’s tail's feather
and the things it said before flying away. Oh, Please,
Sir, I do not remember it’s precise words. I only remember
the colour of her speaking and the hints of distant lands
in her feather. Have I traveled myself? Sir must be
kidding with me. How can one drive when one
is so in love with flying?

C.
Not here. Not here. Come in, please. Some music playing is
going on in here now. Sir has arrived early but
in the meantime one can
enjoy the silence here. It is
a very ancient silence. Would Sir
like to nap a little before the music is played?

Would Sir like to disappear? Sir must be
kidding with me. Surely, who
would not like to nap, would not like

to disappear?
And in a few minutes the melody.