Nightingales give to the forest
its meaning and its fulfilment
its passion and its consummation
Weaving into magnetic sound its essence of flying pollen and playing leaves.
they flap their wings and they perch at the top of trees
and from their beaks comes out the melody
of branches brushing past each other
and squirrel climbing up a tree.
Into the heart of madness
And out with the notes of delightfulness
Into the heart of darkness
Out with the trill of love
Into the heart of oblivion
And out with the unforgettable coral mix of piano notes and dripping dew.
Does it please you to know that you will die
And all that you knew will be obliterated
Crumbled into the ground and decomposed for flowers to bloom through you?
The nightingale wings make a breeze
And in it the butterflies flutter and pollen floats from flower to flower
And sun shines
And people love
And people love.
Nightingales reach for the sky with their song
The sound rises far above summer canopies
Hoping to fly with the clouds and water the earth like rain.
It is said that nightingales do not die
And they don't
They live within the heart of the listener
Reminding him of the ground and the forest and the sky full of stars.
You will see a nightingale sing
Then fall to the ground
As if thunderstruck
And you will go to your life as if nothing had happened
And sun will rise in the morning
And rain will fall in the afternoon
But you will be addicted forever to nightingale trill.

Ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambatpoetry