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Torn by the wind, worn by time
You have already passed by, an old blackbird lives inside
Damaged by children, abandoned by parents
Surrounded by buildings, watered from time to time
He dies without expressing his pain
Between the cold and the heat, the exhaust of the engines
He dies, draws on his sap, so that his branches rise
br/>Before time finishes them off
Carved by knives, stripped of its skin
Half tree, half shaving twenty meters high
Nourished by acid rain, washed by insecticide
In the middle of the great void, his life is decided
Sheltered under the leaves, neighbor of a squirrel
The old blackbird reflects on his house and his mourning
How will his children live?
Who will shelter them from the wind?
What can he do now for the one who at this moment
Dies, does not express his pain
Between the cold and heat, the exhaust of the engines
It bursts, draws on its sap, so that its branches rise
Before time finishes them off