They are the only things that annoy me. I am the only one who hears them. Three roaring birds with plump navy blue chests and a small head like mine. Three who are sitting on my window all day. Three puffy birds there to deafen me. From anywhere, I can hear them, but my friends tell me I’m crazy.
Their roaring is secret. They send ferocious echos throughout the sky. They scurry up and they flutter down and screech as loud as they can with violent mouths and never quit their symphony. This is how they sing.
Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all fly around the entire day, getting louder and louder as they sing. Sing, sing, sing they do when I sleep. They annoy.
When I am too happy and too joyful to have a ruined day, when I am a tiny object up against the giant harmony, then it is birds who annoy. When there is nothing left to get mad about. Three who roar despite time. Three who sing and do not forget to sing. Three whose only reason is to annoy and annoy.