"...the canary was shaking his feathers in the sunlight that came through the open window, and the train was much nearer Paris.
“He loves the sun,” the American lady said. “He’ll sing now in a little while.”" ( A Canary for One by Ernest Hemingway)
I am like a bird that cannot fly,
My heart is small and it is not bright,
I hate this world and I don't strive to love,
I feel all dead inside but I am alive.
This universe opresses me
With senseless game I am not free
Without pulses in this tight cage
I am writing verses on the page.
When I was broken by my flame
I' ve lost the lifetime in this frame,
It is so hard to take this thoughts
About future of this little bird.