The Attic in March
-- by Rachel Ou

Only one window in the attic,
The March sun shines into my cabin,
Trying to heal my wounds,
Silence roams outside the window,
I stand in front of it,
Counting the new buds on the old branches.
Day and day
I am a prisoner bird,
I forgot how high the sky is.

The sun shines outside,
But life after life is dying
Life is not a number,
The chill makes me sleepless
Please dive into my dream
Turn me into the wind,
Take me out of this cage,
I want to fly away

I’ve been waiting for,
Waiting for April Day,
In a world where you can breathe freely,

I want to hear the parula’s chirp,
Smell the fragrance of grass,
See the ripples of waters,
Watch trees and flowers bloom,
Looking forward to your dream in the floating water,
You are love, you are warmth.
Please take me with you,
Become the wind,
Whistle a sliver of hope into people’s ears,
At the end of every tunnel is light