Spring fauna

The spring sun now shines all the way down.

I can feel it on my brown arm and my frown.

The night is losing its endless fight,

Time spent awake no longer too tight.

Especially because of the local fauna,

Going crazy in the morning like Madonna.

Screeching and chirping at 5 am,

It’s not like I never want to hear them,

But, as you know, sleep is nice,

And 5-ish hours do not suffice.

So, any birds reading this right now,

Mating calls only after nine would be wow.

A bird of bad weather

Pahanilmanlintu, a bird of bad weather (pahanilman = of bad weather [paha = bad, ilma = air/weather], lintu = bird).

 

Someone who always foretells bad future,

A doomsayer, a human psychology-moocher,

In Finnish is called a bird of bad weather.

I like it, a small, frail creature of feather

Singing in its voice of a rain that’s coming.

You can always try to drown it out with humming,

But the melody is there always bringing you down

The bird gets happy if it ever sees a frown

Starts singing louder, with enhanced vigor.

To keep your cool, you require some rigor.

The bird gets off on making you annoyed,

Afraid, stressed, slightly paranoid.

Its singing doesn’t reflect the reality at all,

Just a good way for it to feel tall.

Ignore it, live your life like you do,

When bored, it’ll go. Not if you shoo.