Songs Of Falling Feathers Poem by William He

Songs of Falling Feathers
By William He

The tune—a wave in the void,
Wild geese dissolve inside a cloud,
Shapes melt like smoke, who knows what they form.
Song seeps from thin lips,
A tune slow and clear, folding into dusk.
A sacred chord in sunset's shade.
What word do they sing，
Their tongues hum now.
Only low lost winds drift as they roam,
No bright dreams in their gaze.

Living in breath's pulse
Biding bird's soul to leap and flare in light.
The proof of soft and sharp，
Harpsichord's bright tone，
Visions blur, some zoom in.
Wings fall, rebuild on the way down.
Singing tunes deep in their heart，
Mist drifts on the stream.
Earthbound feel—a bleak, still breath,
How to catch the flash then?

Honking a song more pure than man can weave.
Fall down, down,
With the scale's bend.
Magic hums in zither's strings,
Chords make them bold.
The wings' notes,
Fall from a sky of flame.
Their limbs shake,
Grasp at old, low beats in air.