Thursday, March 09, 2006

Like a Bird


 

Whenever I'm feeling lonely
I just think to myself
I shouldn't be feeling lonely
I'll just sing to myself

Whenever I feel unhappy
I just look up on high
Thinking why be unhappy
I have wings, I will fly

Whenever I'm feeling angry
And life rings way too wrong
I try not to be angry
And shout it with a song

Whenever I feel like crying
For many cries unheard
For many children dying
For such a heartless world
Though deep down I'll be dying
I'll vow to not be crying
But be singing and flying
Like a bird... Like a bird... Like a bird

13 Comments:

Blogger Delirious said...

You reminded me so much of this song by Michel Fugain:

Fais comme l'oiseau
Ça vit d'air pur et d'eau fraîche, un oiseau
D'un peu de chasse et de pêche, un oiseau
Mais jamais rien ne l'empêche, l'oiseau, d'aller plus haut

Mais je suis seul dans l'univers
J'ai peur du ciel et de l'hiver
J'ai peur des fous et de la guerre
J'ai peur du temps qui passe, dis
Comment peut on vivre aujourd'hui
Dans la fureur et dans le bruit
Je ne sais pas, je ne sais plus, je suis perdu

Fais comme l'oiseau
Ça vit d'air pur et d'eau fraîche, un oiseau
D'un peu de chasse et de pêche, un oiseau
Mais jamais rien ne l'empêche, l'oiseau, d'aller plus haut

Mais l'amour dont on m'a parlé
Cet amour que l'on m'a chanté
Ce sauveur de l'humanité
Je n'en vois pas la trace, dis
Comment peut on vivre sans lui ?
Sous quelle étoile, dans quel pays ?
Je n'y crois pas, je n'y crois plus, je suis perdu

Fais comme loiseau
Ça vit d'air pur et d'eau fraîche, un oiseau
D'un peu de chasse et de pêche, un oiseau
Mais jamais rien ne l'empêche, l'oiseau, d'aller plus haut

Mais j'en ai marre d'être roulé
Par des marchands de liberté
Et d'écouter se lamenter
Ma gueule dans la glace, dis
Est-ce que je dois montrer les dents ?
Est-ce que je dois baisser les bras ?
Je ne sais pas, je ne sais plus, je suis perdu

Fais comme l'oiseau
Ça vit d'air pur et d'eau fraîche, un oiseau
D'un peu de chasse et de pêche, un oiseau
Mais jamais rien ne l'empêche, l'oiseau, d'aller plus haut

2:19 AM  
Blogger Ramzi said...

Coveted is the pleasure
Of the flying bird that sings
Would it sing and fly however
If the bird had broken wings?

6:07 AM  
Blogger Ghassan said...

Bravo, very impressive exchange.

7:08 AM  
Blogger laila said...

when I have broken wings
I just know that time will mend
waiting by the water springs
i sing life till the end

9:44 AM  
Blogger Fouad said...

Skies are low and life dryest
When dry are inner springs
Still birds that fly the highest
Are ones with broken wings

10:21 AM  
Blogger Mirvat said...

very nice!

11:20 AM  
Blogger Ramzi said...

Dear friends how true you've spoken
By the springs the bird will weather
Time will mend what it has broken
A wing is none but limb and feather

The wings of souls alas do differ
And if life those wings forsook
From whence there once flowed a river
You'll find a vanishing brook

12:50 PM  
Blogger laila said...

with you i beg to differ
and mumble if i may
our wings may hurt and quiver
but our souls learn everyday

that beauty you can't know
without suffering and pain
don't flowers blossom after snow
and rainbows follow rain?

1:48 PM  
Blogger Ramzi said...

Endless cycles of light and shadow
Nature does hold that creed
Any spring flower in the meadow
In the ground was but a seed

If in my breast lay many hearts
Then maybe I too could bear
When one does end the other starts
What need then for despair?

But with one heart I must persist
Tell me then where lies the pleasure
If for all the joy that could exist
Sorrow is there in equal measure?

7:11 PM  
Blogger Fouad said...

Two wells lie there before you
Avid to quench your thirst
the second's filled with sorrow
and with bliss is the first

Two wells, they're not achanging
Nor is life's heav'n and hell
You're weak, your soul is aching
Why choose the sadness well???

11:31 PM  
Anonymous aisling said...

Fair Rosamund faced Queen Eleanor
to choose her fate by cup or blade.
No mercy there.The subtler war
occurs when this new choice is
made.

Two misty pools await me now,
my bliss to follow or destroy.
If I must drink, God, teach me how
to wisely choose--to learn through
joy.

9:53 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I dream of ruins
spirit-haunted
mysteried
impure

There was a road, and water, here
yesterday
long ago
before

And birds
on the ground
in the air
souls?

I wake in my bed
dream-haunted
bemused
unsure

Neither pathway nor springs
yesterday
now
evermore

My arms are bared
in the air
I have no wings
or do I?

11:06 PM  
Blogger Fouad said...

You do

11:10 PM  

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