Born to diminishing flocks,
I can no longer find
the nest of my fathers.
In the third year since hatching,
I wearily dance the courtship dance,
I hoarsely cry the mating call,
but no one answers.
I hardly remember
my nestling time
when the chirps of my mother,
alert for marauders,
warned me of danger.
Now the predators are departed,
dispersed by man the protector,
guardian of my growing fear,
that I will never sing the marriage song.