for Alec Bond

I saw the lovely sky, blue and bright.
If only I were a little bird
Inwardly firm, so I might
Delight myself with lovely sights.

The huntsman’s out to kill us who pecked at his fruit.
How clearly the moonlight speaks to me:
You will find the right words
To gaze on the earth from a dazzling height!

What can be the real difference?
O fate, O sad duty,
O mankind, O life, what does it mean?
They grumble toward heaven.
But ah, who will lay me in it?
Being already up there
In the deep, deep grave
Of the stars