Hush now, you don’t want to startle it, do you?
Perched on the lowest branch,
It's magnificent feathers almost touching the ground.
The bark would peel off if we try,
Rich brown, moistened by the season’s first monsoon.
Careful, we mustn’t frighten it!
Deep Blue, as though the azure Delhi sky
Had dripped into it's skin.
Proud, as the lineage of rulers
Who once strutted on this soil.
Hush! Listen to them calling out!

Pursue the sight of this enchanting bird I must,
Sighing, for this is all that remains
Of a once fascinating life
Donne the clothes of a lady I must
But for one passion to legally own,
To scamper into the wild,
For the prize of a token left behind,
In the flight of
The first lady of our nation’s birds.