To the Sparrow

Ah, tender sparrow, Perched trembling on this rain-kissed bough, Who sings of your soft entrance Into the sacred age of dawn.

When shadows spread their wings over the world, And night creeps deep into life’s quiet pulse, You scatter forth that bright, sweet call, As if to stir our hearts to the day’s delight.

What do you know, small bard of the gray? Do you hear the world unspool in bonny flight? Or feel the stars weave round your song? For you, my little friend, weave poetry from the air.

• Rainer Maria Rilke