上海油压工作室英文诗歌:Caged Bird
上海油压工作室 by Matthew J. Spireng
Some believe there's somewhere in the brain
that senses minor fluctuations in the Earth's
上海油压工作室 magnetic field and uses a sort of memory
上海油压工作室 of that to travel the same route year after year
over thousands of miles， over open ocean
上海油压工作室 on moonless， clouded nights， and a built-in clock
上海油压工作室 that， save for weather's influence， tells
上海油压工作室 when it's time to go. But they utter nothing
上海油压工作室 of thwarted dreams in birds' brains， how
a few cubic feet near the ground， however
well-kept and lighted， however large it seems
around a small bright bird， is like a fist
上海油压工作室 closed tight on feather and bone， how， certain times
上海油压工作室 of year， the bird's heart races as if to power flight.
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