I make my house myself,
To keep my children safe,
I go around the day,
To collect rare foods.
I leave my bed at dawn,
And lay back in bed at dusk,
Some good people feed me,
rest, I keep on wandering and eating.
But you know I chirp a bare,
unlike the other birds,
I don’t have the strength to oppose,
The irritating herds.
I demand water by asking,
“chirrup” as politely as I can,
A lady in a small cottage
comes out and provides.
Even sometimes, a crow,
snatches my meal,
I don’t perceive how to fight,
I leave the place,
and search out a new treasure around.
I am much concerned,
About my kids who miss me,
in the nest around the clock,
I pray to God,
To give that old woman,
Everything she wishes,
As she is my living god,
who cares about my appetite.
She is the one I trust,
must be adored by,
thousands of humans,
Inside their temples.
She is the one I believe,
Must have educated others,
To look after us poor,
And weak birds.
I, but can’t fight,
With my goddess,
who knows that as like her?
Children, I also have some,
In my home.
I wake up every morning,
and visit fifty-odd homes,
Of which, just a few of them,
Throughout the year,
Do like to feed us,
do like to care.
