We envy all those winging birds
that sing sublimely without words.
Above the vulgar and ill-bred
they soar and swoop, while we instead
are forced to nest beside this pleb,
like flies tied up in spider\'s web,
beset by noxious neighbour’s noise;
discord and din; yes, he enjoys!
The Bedlam of his baying hound
he savours as the sweetest sound
that ever graced this street of dreams.
Perhaps it’s just to us it seems
we’re at the gruesome gates of hell,
both damned, beside brute beast to dwell.
That\'s why we envy birds that fly
across the silent, sacred sky.