The noises we can make with mouth and throat
Make patterns like the music of the birds
The graphic line, the new emotion caught
Expressed by sentence and by the true words
No teacher or professor made our tongue
A gradual evolution done with art
Before the prose there was the evensong
As home the little sparrows want to dart
Yet with this language we can commit fraud
Lies are hidden even in our bones
Then we have the enigmatic code
What translates and what is lost,alone
The fractured chaos of the world takes form
The alphabet convicts us by its charm
How my heart sings 