(The perspective of a child)
Birds, o, how glad are!
Fly they high in sky, take them
To choice, their feathers.
The far off places
With ease they visit and fruit
High-hanging they pick.
Affects them no cold;
Feathers cover them in chill.
No blanket I have.
Peacefully sleep birds,
Perching on trees, blanketing
The body with wings
No cash Dad has and
No cover I have; but mom's
Hugging limbs warm me.
Conquering the whole
World, gaily flown I would have,
Had I had feathers.
For http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.in/