A paradise bird, with feathers so bright,
Hops softly on branches, caught in its plight.
It trills out a song, so tender, so clear,
A voice like fine silk that caresses the ear.

A meadow revealed, so sweet to the sight,
Bathed in the sun’s golden, radiant light —
The forest, the field, and the brook by the hill,
The bird seems so happy, but is it happy still?

Its song is so fervent, yet sadness it bears,
No peace in the notes, just a weight of despair.
For once it had vowed, with a solemn decree,
To forgo its freedom, its skies, to stay free
Of fleeting desires, to live in restraint,
Counting its years in a cage’s constraint.

It rises, determined, its wings spread wide,
One motion… yet freedom is cruelly denied.
The bars of the cage, so unyielding, so cold,
Stand firm as a promise, relentless and bold.
The oath it once made, still shackles it fast,
Its dreams of the sky now belong to the past.

Its wings fold again, they droop to its side,
A hopeless sigh like a thought bitter-tied,
Turns into a ballad, a cage of its own,
And a tear on soft feathers falls, silent, alone.

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