It touched them with quick moves
And they were frightened by the gay bird.
Green looks stared through the night
And angry phosphor glints pierced the foliage
Where owls were moving their beaks deceitfully.
Here your gay bird was frightened
And fearfully returned
Beaten by the envy of the black branches.
Shuddering it fell into the blue day
Tired, lame-winged, dead.