A royal train,

Lord, more scintillating

than jeweled enamel.

Look,

now I spread it in a wheel.

I must say I derive

some satisfaction

from my good looks.

My feathers

are sown with eyes

admiring themselves.

True,

my discordant cry

shames me a little--

and it is humiliating

to make me remember

my meager heart.

Your world is badly made,

if I may so:

the nightingale's voice

in me

would be properly attired--

and soothe my soul.

Lord,

let a day come,

a heavenly day,

when my inner and outer selves

will be reconciled

in perfect harmony.

Amen.