Nightingales give to the forest its meaning and its fulfilment its passion and its consummation Weaving into magnetic sound its essence of flying pollen and playing leaves. they flap their wings and they perch at the top of trees and from their beaks comes out the melody of branches brushing past each other and squirrel climbing up a tree. Into the heart of madness And out with the notes of delightfulness Into the heart of darkness Out with the trill of love Into the heart of oblivion And out with the unforgettable coral mix of piano notes and dripping dew. Does it please you to know that you will die And all that you knew will be obliterated Crumbled into the ground and decomposed for flowers to bloom through you? The nightingale wings make a breeze And in it the butterflies flutter and pollen floats from flower to flower And sun shines And people love And people love. Nightingales reach for the sky with their song The sound rises far above summer canopies Hoping to fly with the clouds and water the earth like rain. It is said that nightingales do not die And they don't They live within the heart of the listener Reminding him of the ground and the forest and the sky full of stars. You will see a nightingale sing Then fall to the ground As if thunderstruck And you will go to your life as if nothing had happened And sun will rise in the morning And rain will fall in the afternoon But you will be addicted forever to nightingale trill. https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambatpoetry
