Like a smart bird sitting in the corner of its cage
and waiting patiently for its jailer to open the door,
in order to peck her unsuspecting hand carrying
water and grain, and dash past, and flutter away,
like an old wolf, surrounded by myriads of red flags,
pressing his silver body to the snow-smeared ground
and watching for that one hunter who would bend
to reload his gun which he would never load again,
I was observing you closely, looking for any
imperfections, any dissonances in your rampant harmony,
to take my quick revenge, break your spell and escape.
It is not that I didn't find any flaws in you,
but that I found too many, as if the door of the cage never existed
or the cage was too spacious, equal in size to the grove.