BULBUL Song of the NightingaleBulbulWho tied you to a perch to carry you to market? Gold cannot hold the sun that blazes

in your furcula. You wish for wings in this life of heartbreak. What cruelty for the maker

to stir such music in your chest: a winged honey to warble while you weep, your foot

tied to a stick. Not even the song in your throat is yours though `mustered from your cage

of sinew and bones. Crows, koyals, dwijahs alike steal grains from your beak. Take this

coal and reach for the sun. This one thing is yours: this flight that sparks wildfire. - Rajiv Mohabir

BULBUL Song of the Nightingalewww.bulbulthedocumentary.com