If the birds do not come

(Affola! Cevirmeye cesaret edemedim ya da kiyamadim)

If the birds do not come
I, whose wings are cleft
And whose gentle talons
Hold you fast to my breast
And from whose throat comes only
The coarse, grey, and grating cry
Of extremity - where no music is -
I, if the birds do not come,
Will sing to you...

If the birds do not come,
Will you who are Spring and
Flight and all Music,
Will you sing to me,
if the birds do not come?

Roscoe Lee Browne