1102 His Bill is clasped — his Eye forsook [Russian translation]

His Bill is clasped — his Eye forsook —

His Feathers wilted low —

The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves

Indifferent hanging now —

The Joy that in his happy Throat

Was waiting to be poured

Gored through and through with Death, to be

Assassin of a Bird

Resembles to my outraged mind

The firing in Heaven,

On Angels — squandering for you

Their Miracles of Tune —