A Little Moscow Sparrow (A Miniature)

 (Just a little poem in prose I compiled today... ;-) )

I'm just a little Moscow sparrow -

so grey, and small, and  plain,

so humble and so vulnerable, 

unseen among grey roofs and branches.

I'm just a little Moscow sparrow,

who drinks from small puddles of rain-water,

who rejoices at every crumb of bread

thrown by a tender-hearted passer-by.

I'm just a little Moscow sparrow

with wings not strong enough to fly too high,

with voice not strong enough to awake the dawn,

with heart not strong enough to stay exposed.

I'm just a little Moscow sparrow,

who shivers with cold when winter comes, 

who doesn't complain when a nasty boy

Throws a pebble in my small chest.

I'm not famous, not renowned,

I have no splendour, no glamour,

But when you hear my merry chirping,

It somewhat changes the whole world around.

I flutter whenever I want to, where I want to,

I know no borders, no restraints,

And all the little side-streets of Arbat,

And all the Moscow songs are mine.

And when the sunrays of early autumn

Paint leaves and domes in shining gold, 

I jump and leap and clean my plumage,

Filled with pure, cheer joy of life. 

My trustful soul, my birdie soul

is all-too-big to be held in cage.

I'm just a little Moscow sparrow -

Svetlana Goryacheva

September, 7, 2007