Sparrow has grown old;
his wings are heavy and his voice not as bright.
The cool wind of fall ruffles hair and feathers
as we sit together by the lake.
Turning to me, he says:
"Brother, even the sky will die,
and the wind itself is not a thing eternal.
But you, if you remain righteous and faithful,
you will see Paradise forever."
Putting my arm around him and holding him tight,
I choke out my words:
"Please, do not speak of such a thing!
I cannot bear to see you go.
You who are so beautiful and so free in the sky,
I do not wish to see cold in the ground."
"I know that such a thought is painful,
but I cannot escape my destiny.
Do not worry, though, for my children you will love,
and their children after me;
you will always have brothers and sisters in us."
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