There is a bluebird in my heart that does not want to fly
Like My coy mistress I love her, she hold her coyness into her heart
I don’t know how the dooms day are coming up
and how I see love never comes through …
There is a bluebird in my heart that resists the sky,
Its wings folded in quiet defiance,
Like my coy mistress, who holds her reticence tight,
Love, concealed in the chambers of her silence.
I cannot say how the end will come,
Or when time will unravel its patient thread.
For love, too, is fleeting, and yet unyielding,
A stubborn flower that never fully blooms.
Neruda taught me how to love in whispers,
Marvell showed me time’s unrelenting chase,
Shakespeare sang of love’s bittersweet embrace.
And yet, I stand, watching love’s uncertain grace.