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A recorded reading of “Bird Chorus”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Third-month wind presses the ridge grass flat. A pink petal travels the stream, turning between stones. A heron lifts from the shallows. The water closes its rings over the place it stood. From the reeds, one note. Across the valley, another. The far ridge sends a third, thinned by distance. At the bend, the petal stalls in the heron's shallow print.
Lyrics
Bird Chorus Tsee-ree, tsee-ree Who starts the morning? The birds do! Who carries the call? We do! Third-month wind combs the ridge. Pink petals cross the stream. A heron lifts from the shallows. A kite cuts through the green. Small calls travel valley to valley. Water gathers, turns, and runs. One wing answers another. The hills wake one by one. From the stone, from the reed, From the branches overhead, Every little throat joins in. Every sleeping path turns bright. Tsee-ree, tsee-ree, morning! Tsee-ree, tsee-ree, fly! Bulbul on the wall. Plover by the bend. Magpie cracks the silence. Lark calls back again. Owl slips past the pine tops. Swallows stitch the blue. One long river carries Every voice through. From the stone, from the reed, From the branches overhead, Every little throat joins in. Every sleeping path turns bright. Tsee-ree, tsee-ree, morning! Tsee-ree, tsee-ree, fly! No one bird owns the sky. Still, the whole sky sings. Tsee-ree, tsee-ree, morning! Tsee-ree, tsee-ree, fly! Tsee-ree, tsee-ree Tsee-ree
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