Singers in the Night

Poemata 80

Singer in the night / no whip-poor-will who wakes me / friend of sleepers all.

Son, now have you heard 
 the nightingale's song?
  sudden as the wind
   changing its course, going along--
   Legend says there was
  a man so taken by this
 that he had them make
in a machine singing bliss;

But no human singing
 is this beauteous thing
  chime or chant it's not
   nor is a chorus on wing;
   Restful is its sound
  on restless ears to fall
 peace is found so strange
on such a cadence to call;

Should man's singing cease
 would music wax the more
  fading to such noise
   singing without notes or score?
   Pretty sound of evening
  made by lovely beasts
 wind through narrows blown
howling for joy at their feasts?

Man to woman speaks
 or woman back to him
  held inside is song
   hope of a love yet so thin;
   How can one so speak
  and live upon those words
 when the song becomes
sound of the twittering birds?