Untitled - Azam Abidov - poet and translator

There was desperation, as far as the sparrow
could see. A family uncannily clings on a floating trunk,
hoping for the indulgence of hope.
Even when all’s gone, gone under the burden of water.
It was too much, far too much for the forlorn sparrow
on the twig. It tries to whistle a dirge
but it’s drowned in the noise of a strange bird.
It flies just above the family on a floating trunk,
making such a disturbing noise as it swings its wings.
The forlorn sparrow can’t stand the noise.
It stretched out, flapped its wings and flew into space
wondering why man that boasts big brain
Should be so vulnerable to the caprices of rain.
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