They tap upon my window,
with morning’s gentle insistence,
now that the cold calls for a shawl,
forgetting the warmth of evening.
My heart begins to ache
when the birds summon love
in a tender dawn
for souls that long for one another.
I steal the warmth of your skin,
now that it is morning,
and taste the bloom and honey
to the chorus at your window.
They are the birds of dawn,
sending their sweet messages
to the one who cannot suffer,
but only loves — and ever more deeply.
What a wondrous nature,
to adorn the love of humankind,
asking for nothing else
but the closeness of a hand.
They are the gentle companions
of soft, trembling melodies,
when my beating heart
turns my soul into Pandora’s box.
Jesús Hernando Camacho Mosquera.
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