When cathedral bells toll through the morning <br />and sunlight touches steeples with its glare, <br />and arrows on the town hall clock stop turning, <br />you will find him on the market square, <br />sweeping leaves in shadows of despair. <br />And in that instant you will cease your yearning. <br />Hunchbacked, with a chuckle he will share <br />the secrets of his heart, and give a warning <br />to city doves assembling at his feet, <br />to sparrows quarrelling on Neptune’s head. <br />He’ll lower his tobacco chin to meet <br />their eyes and whisper what Saint Francis said. <br />He’ll toss crumbs with his withered sailor’s hand. <br />And when he looks up, you will understand.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-birdman-of-gdansk/
