A Silent Cuckoo

A cuckoo broke her leg. 'O dear, O dear! ' lamented friends! But laughed that sweetest koel, like swishing flows of Ganges pious! 'Ye cut condolences thy my friends! Did I dance ere and never will! Singing is passion my! That way I's born, that way I grew with purpose sweet, to spill my tunes all over the world and fill my soul as well with sacred twangs and trills! This's time, my time to sing, aloud and unfettered, and incessant with ease and leisure aplenty! No monsoon now, no fall, all seasons my own springs! Squatted in roost's my warmth, tapping with my numbed legs ah let me sing, ah sing, my sweetest ever and best, the names of Lord, in tunes divine and songs of love with all new grace in lilts! O friends, the day I walk again and fly afar into the deep blue sky, with drying up my throat and raining wind-hit eyes, in all silence browsing around for food; that day I sure lament in quiet! Till then ah let me sing, ah let me sing, oh sing! '